A long way down
by over-and-over
Summary: AU; Killing off yourself is not that easy after all, and Logan, Camille, Kendall and Jo are going to find that out the hard way. How can four strangers help each other to face their demons? Kendall/Jo, Camille/Logan BTR doesn't exist, but James and Carlos both make an appearance
1. At first they were three

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, unfortunately...**

**A/N: Hi! I've been thinking to write this story ever since I started watching BTR but I never seemed able to, so I started my other story. But I reread the book, A long way down by Nick Hornby, recently and the desire to write the story came back. The story is heavily based on the book, although I think I've managed to not make it too OOC, especially the first chapter. I hope you like it!**

**A long way down **

_Logan_

Is it easy to explain why I sit at the ledge of a multi store building, my feet dangling over the end? No. But can I explain it? Sure I can, I'm not a fucking idiot! I can explain it because it's not something that I decided overnight. I mean if you knew me, you'd know that there's no way there was another alternative for me than to jump off this building. I don't do things just because. I do things after a lot of thinking, and then some rethinking, and then some more thinking.

So it was a well rounded thought to come up here and jump down. And it wasn't as terribly complicated, or agonizing as you may think it was. Okay to make it easier for you to understand let's say that you work in a company and the CEO calls you in his office one day and he says that the headquarters a continent away have a better offer for you. That's a pretty straightforward decision, considering that you always wanted to live in Europe, but still you'd like to think about it wouldn't you? You'd at least work out whether you could afford to move, or leave your friends and family behind, whether your wife and kids would be pleased with the idea of relocating. Most people would draw a list of pros and cons. That's what I did.

Cons: friends, aged parents, chess club.

Pros: more money, a better life for your family, a place where there was a distinction between the seasons etc.

You see that it is no contest, don't you? The chess club, please give me a freaking break! After everything that happened my 'buddies' will be more than glad to get rid of me. And as for the aged parents...Well they were already so far away from me emotionally that I couldn't bring myself to care. No, the real con in my mind is the kids...But there were no kids no more, or I should say there was no kid no more.

My jumping off this rooftop on a foreign country was just like relocating because of the job. Okay, I know that it's not exactly like that, geez! But it felt like that. Like the only thing that was left for me to do. So why the hell not?

_Jo _

I told her that I was going out for New Year's. Out to a party. Told her that every day since October. I doubt that people organise New Year's Eve parties in October, but we were in England, weren't we? So here maybe they did. I shouldn't have told her so early but I couldn't wait any longer! I had decided on it on early June and there was this itch somewhere within me that forced me to rattle the lie out. It's stupid really, because she doesn't even understand me. But the nurses and the doctors tell me to keep talking to her. I see though that nothing goes through to her, how could it anyway?

The moment the words were out of my mouth I wanted to go straight to confession. I'd lied hadn't I? I lied to my only sister, and yes it was a tiny silly little lie but it covered such a truth behind it. And I had spent so much time thinking this lie out; I'd told her months in advance that I was going to this party. I told her whose party it was, the woman in the next room was throwing it because her daughter finally woke up and she wanted to celebrate that so she'd invited everyone in the hospital. But confession wasn't possible, since I knew that I was going to lie again, and again, and again until the day I died.

I don't know whether I believe in confession or not, but it's the way my parents brought me up. They taught me that sins were evil and that every time I sinned I had to go to church and tell the priest all about it. Being the shy little girl that I was at first I didn't even consider sinning; how was I going to spill my guts out to a stranger? Growing up with my sister in the hospital her life hanging by a thread or should I say by a bunch of monitors, sinning became an almost impossible task. Up to the moment that I opened my mouth and lied to her.

And what would I say to the priest when he asked me why I sinned? Would I dare tell him the truth? That I was to commit the biggest sin of all in less than three months?

Although between you and me I don't see why it's the biggest sin. All your life you're told that you'll be going to this perfectly awesome place where there's not a care in the world after you pass on. And the one thing that you can do to get there faster is something that stops you from getting there at all! Okay yeah, I can see that it might seem like it's a queue jumping but c'mon! If I cut in front of someone at the cinema then that someone will start screaming at me, maybe poke me or even slap me. But they'd definitely not force me to live the rest of my life in the deepest dark, being consumed by fire for all eternity. I mean, that's kind of harsh, don't you think?

I couldn't very well stop going to the church because then everyone would start wondering what was wrong with me.

As we got closer to the date I kept passing on information for the party to her. I pretended that I'd just gotten off a call with Marjorie, that was the woman throwing the fake party, and that I'd learned something new 'Marjorie says that there will be dancing' 'Marjorie is worried that with all those foreigners in the room I'll start feeling homesick' 'Marjorie is worried that not everyone likes wine and beer, so she'll be providing spirits'. If Alex had been able to understand anything, she'd have decided that this Marjorie woman was crazy, worrying like that about a little get together. The one time I happened to see Marjorie outside the hospital I blushed and kept my eyes on my shoes the whole while we were talking. Maybe she was having a New Year's Eve party after all. But I didn't ask, I didn't want her to invite me.

Thinking back, I think I'm ashamed. Not because of the lies, no. I'm ashamed of how pathetic it all was. A Monday night I found myself telling Alex that Marjorie was going to buy ham for the sandwiches. New Year's Eve was constantly on my mind and I guess that this was a way for me to talk about it without actually talking about it.

_Camille_

I was at a party downstairs in the squat. It wasn't a good party or anything, I had grown tired of all those British people that insisted on drinking the whole day and spent their nights smoking spliffs. Okay yeah, I'm generalizing but I can't be bothered to care. At midnight a couple of them started clapping and laughing, and that was it, Happy New Years, cheers! You could have come to this party being the happiest person in the whole Island of the United Kingdom and yet you'd want to jump off the roof by five past twelve. And I certainly was not the happiest person in London, anyway. I mean obviously!  
I only turned up in the so called party because someone in college told me that Steve would be there, but surprise, surprise he wasn't. I tried his mobile for the umpteenth time, but it wasn't on. When we first split up he'd called me a stalker. But c'mon! You cannot tell me that I was a stalker because I called him! I wanted to fix our relationship! And wow how terrible of mine, I sent him several e-mails and knocked on his door. Maybe I should be considered a general threat to the public? I hope you do note the sarcasm in my words. It's not like I followed him around when he was out shopping, or searched his garbage or anything. And anyway, I didn't think it was stalking when someone owed you an explanation.

I say that if someone owes you an explanation is like he owes you money. Wouldn't you knock on the person's door and demand your six hundred dollars back? Wouldn't you call him time and again until he picked up? Wouldn't you sent threatening letters? We are talking about six hundred dollars! People get serious about that sort of money; I know that I get serious about that sort of money. People call in debt collectors, and break people's legs, but I never went that far. I know where to stop, I showed some restraint.

Steve wasn't in the party, that much was clear, and yet I stayed there. Where else was I going to go? I was feeling so sorry for myself. I was pathetic. Stranded in a foreign country, being all alone in New Year's Eve. For a moment I wished I'd listened to my mother's plea and had visited for the holidays. At least then I wouldn't be on my own in some shit party, in some shit squat where I didn't know anybody.

_Logan_

I'd spent the last couple of months looking up suicide inquests on the internet. I was always interested in the subject; I never understood how the survival instinct didn't intervene with ones plans. Nearly every single time the coroner says the same thing 'He took his own life while the balance of his mind was disturbed'. Yeah right, that was just bull. It's actually one of the reasons why I had decided not to be a coroner. Coroners saw what they wanted to see, or some times what the police told them to see. If they knew the victim's story, if they even cared about it, they'd see that the poor bastard had found out that his wife was sleeping with his best friend, that he'd lost his job, that his daughter had been killed in a road accident some months before...I mean, as an M.E myself I don't see that as a disturbed mental balance. On the contrary I'd say that he got it just right.

How much crap can a man take before he breaks under pressure, and then it's off to the nearest multi-storey supermarket? The coroner's inquest should read "He took his own life sober and careful after a lot of consideration knowing that his life had gown down the drain and everything was fucked up'.

Not once did I read a newspaper report that convinced me that the deceased was really bonkers. You know like: "Well known pop star icon, newly wedded to Miss Universe, had recently achieved a unique Double: he is the only man ever to have won three Grammys and an Oscar for Best Actor in the same year. The rights to his first novel had just been bought for an undisclosed sum by JJ Abrams. He was found hanging from a beam in his stables by a member of his staff." Now I admit, if I read that somewhere then yes, I'd admit that the coroner was correct. Not that I think that money and success prevents someone from being depressed, I'm sure it doesn't - yet I think these things help in some way. Look at the statistics; it's much more common to off yourself if you've recently been through a divorce, or if you've lost your job, or if you are gay...There are lots and lots of factors that push people over the edge; and I guarantee you that none of these factors are likely to make you feel anything but fucking miserable.

Two years ago Logan Mitchell wouldn't even consider sitting so close to the ledge in the middle of the night, during New Year's Eve, looking a hundred feet down, wondering how hard the concrete would be as he crashed on it. But two years ago Logan Mitchell was a different person. I still had my medical license. I still had a wife. I hadn't slept with a sixteen year old. I hadn't been to prison. There were not front pages in illustrated magazines with my face on them and the title 'Sleazebag' underneath it.

You can say that two years ago there was absolutely no reason for me to be so close to the edge. If the bloody coroner dared to say that I was mentally unbalanced while jumping of this rooftop I had promised myself to go back and haunt the crap out of him. I didn't feel crazy; I knew what I was doing. Wanting to kill myself was an appropriate and reasonable response to a whole series of unfortunate events and I was not about to blame it on someone or something else. Yes I know what you'll say, I could've asked for help, I could've go and see a shrink.  
The thing is, I didn't want to see a shrink. I know that you think he could've helped, but I know that he couldn't. And you know I think that's what's wrong with our society. Everyone is so willing to blame someone else. So reluctant to face his own responsibilities. It's always someone else's fault, right? Boo-hoo-hoo! Well I happen to believe that what went on with my parents when I was a kid had nothing to do with me screwing a sixteen year old.

I had done it all alone, without anyone else's help. I was the one that pissed my own freaking life away. Literally. Well...okay, maybe not literally, literally. It's not like I had, you know, turned my life into urine and then stored it into my bladder and so on and so forth. But it felt as if I'd pissed my life away.

I had everything I've ever wanted. Finishing college faster than most, since I am a genius and all, getting a job offer from one of the greatest hospitals in London, Peggy accepting my marriage proposal, Peggy agreeing to come with me agreeing to be an ocean away from her friends and family because of me. And somehow I'd managed to spend it all away. I managed to spent my job and my wife, my future, on a teenage girl and night clubs; these things all come at a price, and I'd happily paid it, and then suddenly my life wasn't there anymore.

So what exactly would I be leaving behind? Certainly not a life worth living. No one would miss me, or care for what happened to me. And I can't say that I was sad. I just felt very stupid, and very angry.

I don't want you to believe that I am sitting here now because I suddenly saw sense. The reason I'm sitting here now is because that night turned into as much of a mess as everything else. I couldn't even jump off a fucking tower-block without fucking it up.

_Jo_

On New Year's Eve the visiting hours were extended until after midnight. I was sitting on the armchair next to her bed since eleven that morning. Every time I caught sight of her face I felt my eyes filling with tears.

I had brushed her hair and braid them. She used to love them braided...I had changed her clothes into a dress that I knew she'd like if she was awake, if she knew what was happening around her. I read her a passage from my favourite book and sang a Christmas' carol to her, like I did when we were little. When she was with me.

I felt so sick on my stomach. Her whole life Alexis had experienced nothing else than people leaving her; her birth mother abandoning her at the porch of our house when she was no older than seven months old. Then five years later our mother dying prematurely courtesy to lung cancer. At the age of fifteen she was riding shot gun on her best friend's car. A drunk driver on a black Hummer passed a red light and smashed on to them, driving their car out of the road; Ben, Alex's best friend, died on impact, Alex fell into a comma. Two years passed and we relocated in London, in one of the best hospitals hoping against hope that Alex would come back to us. It took my father nine more months to give up on her; Alex was not really his daughter after all as he so kindly reminded me, brandishing an airplane ticket for the States in front of my face. If I knew what was best for me I'd go back with him, he said and then left me there.  
Alexis once told me that she thought she was cursed. That no one should ever love her because when people did, people died. She said that we should keep away from her, that she wanted us to keep away from her, because she loved us. I put my arms around her and promised that I wouldn't die, I promised that I'd love her, that I'd be there. And now I was about to break that promise and leave her.

But I couldn't take this anymore. Maybe I was weak. Maybe I was selfish but if you've never been in my place, then you cannot understand how I felt. I was twenty four and I already felt like an old person. Last time I looked at the mirror I couldn't recognise myself. So don't tell me that I was about to take the easy way out, because you don't know what the last nine years of my life have been like.

I waited at the bus stop for ten minutes, but no bus came around. So I decided to walk. I was always too scared to wonder around London all by myself, especially that late at night. But I guess knowing that I was about to off myself made my fear go away. And then I started thinking; what if I get attacked but not killed? Left for dead without actually dying? Then I'd be taken to a hospital. And the bills would just keep coming, growing even bigger with the both of us in the hospital. And without my waitress payment, I wouldn't be able to go to work since I'd be hospitalized, how would we cover them? All those months of planning would have been a complete waste of time and I'd come out of hospital owing them a small fortune. And then, things would get worst since I'd have to ask my father's help to pay.

No one attacked me though. A couple of people wished me a Happy New Year, but that was it.

I'd never been to Topper's House before. After all I wasn't in London for tourism and see sighting. I'd just been past it on the bus once or twice. It didn't even occur to me that maybe getting on the roof would be kind of impossible. Thankfully the door was open and so I went in and started walking, climbing staircases. I walked until I couldn't anymore.  
I should've really seen it coming. I mean I knew that Topper's House was a famous landscape because hundreds of people decided to use it as a straightway ticket to heaven- or hell, what with _it_ being the greatest of sins. So I should've known that after so many free jumps someone would've taken precautionary measures.  
They'd put this wire up, way up high, and there were curved railings with spikes on the top...well, that's when I began to panic. I think I qualify as a somewhat tall woman but I was sure that there was no way I could lift my own weight up and over those railings. I couldn't see how I would be able to reach the edge. And it had to be that night; I couldn't take anymore of the lying, and the depression that came with the job description of being Alexis' older sister.  
I started to go through all the other options, but none of them were any good. I didn't want to do it in my own front room, where some poor neighbour of mine would find my body. I wanted to be found by a stranger. And I didn't want to jump in front of a train, the mare thought scared me too much, I wouldn't go through with it. And after what happened to Alex and Ben I'd promised to myself to never own a car, so I couldn't very well use one to ran off a cliff or breathe in the exhaust fumes...

And then I saw Logan, right over the other side of the roof. I hid in the shadows and watched him. The way I know him now, it's just obvious that of course he'd come prepared; he'd brought a little stepladder, and some wire-cutters, and he'd managed to climb of the top like that. And he was just sitting there on the ledge, dangling his feet, looking down. That's where I was supposed to be, where I wanted to be! I hid there and waited. Then I waited some more. But then I just couldn't wait any longer! It was his stepladder but he didn't look like he was about to jump any time soon. Me on the other hand, I was ready. I needed that stepladder.

I never tried to push him. And even if I'd tried I doubt that I would've succeeded. Plus I knew that I shouldn't; it should be his decision to put an end on his life, not mine. I just went up to him, put my hand through the wire and tapped him on the shoulder. I only wanted to ask him if he was going to be long.

_Camille_

I hadn't really thought of going up to the roof. Honestly I'd forgotten all about the whole Topper's House thing until I talked to this guy. I think he liked me, which isn't really saying much, seeing as I was about the only female under thirty who could still stand up. He gave me a fag that I declined, and he told me that his name was Bong. I don't know why I asked him why he was called Bong but I did, and he said it was because he always smoked his wee out of a bong. I had started moving away from him, I had no intention of spending my first night of the new year with a pothead named Bong, but he took a hold of my wrist and he started naming everyone he knew in the squat, like I gave a shit!

But the ten minutes that I did talk with Bong made history. Well, not history like 55bc or 1939. Not historical history, unless one of us goes on and invents a time machine or...I don't know, something equally impressive that historians will talk about it for years and years in the future. But who knows what would've happened to us if Bong didn't like me? Because before he started chatting me up I was just about to go home, and Jo and Logan would be dead now, probably and...well that's not something that I'd like to think about. It upsets me too much.

When Bong had finished going through his list he looked at me with a knowing look in his eyes.  
"You're not thinking of going up on the roof, are you?" he asked and I frowned at him, thinking 'No way I'm going up there with you stoner-brain' but then he continued "Because I can see the pain and desperation in your eyes."  
I was half sure that this was the worst pick up line ever! I mean I was well drunk by that time, so I'm pretty sure that the only thing he could see in my eyes were seven Bacardi Breezers and two cans of Special Brew.

"Oh really?" I said sarcastically but he didn't seem to catch up on it.

"Yeah, see, I've been on suicide watch, to look out for people who've only come here because they want to go upstairs." I was really perplexed when I asked him what was upstairs, but he just laughed at my face "You're joking aren't you? This is Topper's House, dude. This is where people kill themselves!"

And I would never have thought of it if he hadn't said that. Everything suddenly made sense. Because even though I'd been about to go home, I couldn't imagine what I'd do when I got there, and I couldn't imagine waking up in the morning. I wanted Steve, and he didn't want me, and I came to the realization that the best thing that I could do with my life was make it come to a short end. I almost laughed, it was so neat; I wanted to make my life short, and I was at a party in Topper's House. That was not a coincidence! That was like, like, God talking to me! Okay, I was kinda disappointed that the only thing He had to say to me was 'jump of a roof' but I didn't blame Him. What else was he supposed to tell me?

I could feel the weight of everything then- the weight of loneliness, of everything that had gone wrong. I felt like a heroine in one of those ancient tragedies as I made my way up those last few flights to the top of the building, dragging that weight along with me. Jumping felt like the only way to get rid of it, the only way to make it work for me instead of against me; I felt so heavy that I was sure I'd hit the street in no time. If there was a world record for jumping off a tower-block, I was about to break it.

_Logan_

If she hadn't tried to kill me, I'd be dead, no question. But at least my theory about the survival instinct was proved right; it did mess up with your plans. I was trying to kill myself, I knew I was going to jump, and yet the second I felt the thump on my back, I whirled around and grabbed the railings so hard, like my life depended on it. And well it kind of did.  
I think Jo was quite startled with my reaction, and I can't say I blame her. There I was at the edge of the building, holding on for dear life, all the while screaming at her that she almost killed me. I don't like using excuses for myself, but I think I was way too drank to think rationally. It's not easy to admit it, but I'm a scary-cat, I have always been too scared of everything. When we first had to move if it wasn't for Peggy there was no way I'd gotten inside that plane. So you see, in order for me to jump I had to get kinda plastered. I know, I know, I shouldn't have driven. I could've taken some other poor bastard's life on my neck. But I wasn't going to take the fucking stepladder on the bus!

So yes, I probably did let rip with a bit of vocabulary. If I'd know it was Jo, better say if I'd known what Jo was like, then I would have toned it down a bit...possibly. But I didn't. I probably used the 'f' word too many times, for which I've apologized. But you have to admit it was a unique situation.

I stood up and turned around slowly, carefully, because I did not want to fall off until I chose to, and I started yelling at her, and she just stared.

"I know you," she said her head a little tilted on the left.  
I was about to ask how. I was being slow. People came up to me in restaurants, and shops, and theatres and even outside my own bloody house. 'I know you,' and they invariably mean precisely the opposite; they mean 'I don't know you. But I've seen your face in the paper'. But that night, I just wasn't expecting it. It all seemed a bit beside the point, that side of life.

"From the hospital," she said and the little rant that I had prepared in my mind vanished.  
"T-the hospital?" I asked and she nodded, her blond hair falling over her face.

"Yeah I've seen you...You work there," she said and I felt my stomach turning "but lately...I haven't seen you," she frowned a little.  
"You don't know what happened?" I asked before I could stop myself. Jo shook her head. I'm sure my eyebrows reached my hairline. It didn't matter though "What are you doing here anyway?" I snapped at her and Jo jumped a little.  
"I was...I was going to jump too," she admitted "I wanted to borrow your ladder."

"So you're just going to stand there and watch?"  
"No, of course not!" she refused furiously shaking her head "I'm sure you want to do this on your own."  
"You're right."  
"I'll...I'll go over there," she gestured to the other side of the roof.  
"I'll give you a shout on the way down," I laughed but she didn't "C'mon, gimme something here," I pressed.

"I suppose I'm just not in the mood."

I don't think she was trying to be funny. Still what she said cracked me up. I think I pissed her off because she turned around and walked to the other side of the rooftop, and sat down with her back against the far wall.

I turned around and lowered myself back on the ledge. I clasped my hands on my lap and looked down at the road. But I couldn't concentrate. The moment had gone. You're probably thinking 'how much concentration does a man need to throw himself off the top of a high building?'. Well you'd ask that, because you don't know me.

Before Jo arrived I'd been in the zone; I had come to terms with it, pushing myself off was easy. I was entirely focused on all the reasons I was up there in the first place; I understood with a horrible clarity the impossibility of attempting to resume life down on the ground.

But the conversation with Jo, however short it was, had distracted me. It'd pulled me back in the world, back into the cold and the wind, back to my reality, back in to me; back to Logan Mitchell. I couldn't get the mood back. I hadn't changed my mind, and I still knew that I'd have to do it some time. But that time wasn't in the next five minutes.  
"Hey, do you wanna swap places" I yelled throwing a look over my shoulder to Jo "See how you get on?" I laughed again. I was in a roll that night!  
Jo came out of the shadows and walked towards the breach in the wire fence hesitantly.  
"I want to be by myself," she said.  
"And you will...For about, twenty minutes. Then I want my spot back."

"How are you even going to get back over to this side?" she asked her hands coming to her hips. I hadn't thought of that. In my defence, I didn't thought that I'd need to get back on the safe side! And the stepladder worked one way; there wasn't enough room on my side of railings to open it out. But I was a genius, so in the end I did find a way.  
"You'll have to hold it," I said to Jo and her eyes got wide.  
"Sorry what?"  
"You hand it over the top to me, I'll put it flush against the railings. You hold it steady from that side and I climb up," I explained. Jo shook her head.  
"I'd never be able to keep it in place. You're too heavy."  
"Hey!" I exclaimed looking down on myself. I wasn't heavy! Everyone always said I was scrawny who did she thought she was...  
"Are you seriously going to get angry with me over that?" she asked and I heard her chuckle. Instantly I felt my cheeks flushing.  
"I'm not angry!" I yelled and Jo rolled her eyes.  
"Right, you are not. And you're not heavy either. But I'm a weak, weak female, and I can't hold your weight," she said batting her eyelashes and pushing her hand over her heart. It was my turn to roll my eyes.  
She was right though. She was too light, like she had days to eat a healthy meal. Maybe she wanted to kill herself because she didn't want to die a long and painful death from some disease or other.

I wasn't sure that I wanted to climb over to the other side anyway. The railings marked a boundary now; from the other side there was the door, and then there were the stairs, and the street...and then I'd find myself outside my old house, banging my head against the door, pissing Peggy off so much she'll end up calling the cops on me. I was afraid that I would change my mind that I'd cower. The ledge felt safe. There was no humiliation and shame there.

"Why can't you just shuffle round to the other side of the roof?"  
"Why can't you? It's my ladder!"  
"Seriously?" Jo said again this time crossing her arms "Not much of a gentleman, are you?"

"No shit Sherlock! That's one of the reasons I'm up here, in fact. Don't you read the papers?"  
"Sure, I look at the local one...sometimes," she said with a small shrug.  
"So what do you know about me?"  
"You...work at the hospital."  
"That's it?"

"Is there something else I should know?" she asked narrowing her eyes a little. It was refreshing, and ironic; the night I decided to die I found someone that didn't know my story.  
"You're American," I said then and her posture changed, she turned defensive.  
"So are you."  
"What are you doing in London?"  
"Mmm, let me think...It's none of your business," she said pressing her lips in a thin line. Then her expression relaxed "Oh! I also know that you like your coffee with cream."  
"Oh?"  
"Yeah I heard you telling it to a nurse...once...I think," she pinched the bridge of her nose "I was sleep deprived, maybe I remember wrong..."  
"No I do take it with cream," I said and she smiled at me "Is that all you can dredge up?"

"Yes."  
"So..." I trailed off pinning in her eyes "Why do you think I want to kill myself?"  
"I've no idea."

"You're pissing me around."

"Wow, you're really easy to rile up, aren't you? I didn't even say anything wrong."

At that moment I was certain that Jo was the most annoying person that I'd ever met! She was making me angry just by being there and messing up with my plans to kill myself! All I wanted was to get away from her. I looked down at my shoes and then it hit me. I started unbuckling my belt.

"What are you doing?" Jo asked and I think I detected a tone of alarm in her voice.  
"Nothing you won't like," I said knowing perfectly well how it sounded. But she'd made me angry.

"Someone thinks too highly of himself," she said back but the alarm was definitely there and I saw that she also took a step back.  
"I'm being honest," I said and took the belt off "Give me the ladder," I demanded. Jo looked at me, then at the belt, and then her eyes landed on the stepladder. I could see the cogs turning in her head as realization dawned on her.

She quickly passed the ladder over the fence. I knelt down, passed it around both ladder and railings, pulled it tight, buckled it up, gave it a shake to check it would hold. I really didn't want to die falling backwards. I climbed back over.  
I was just about to let Jo jump in peace when this...when she came roaring at us.

_Camille_

I probably shouldn't have made that noise. It was my mistake. I mean, I didn't need to scream, I could've just walked, quickly and quietly and most of all calmly, towards the cut on the railings, climb the stepladder and jump. But I didn't. Instead I screamed something like 'Out of my way losers!' and made this Red Indian war-whoop noise. I thought I'd make it, I was so close to the ladder! But then Logan rugby-tackled me sending both of us on the gritty fake-Tarmac. Then I really did want to be dead.  
I didn't know it was Logan. I never saw anything really, until my back hit on the dirt, my limbs on fire as we crashed on the floor. I just saw the stars twinkling on the sky above. But I did know what they were both doing up there, you didn't have to be a genius to get what was going on.

"How come you two are allowed to kill yourselves and I'm not?" I demanded looking at Logan who had me pinned on the ground, straddling me while holding my arms above my head. I tried not to fluster, damn the dude was hot.  
"You're too young," he said as if that explained anything. I huffed. Why did everyone always say that too me?  
"I am not as young as I look! If you get off I can show you my ID and everything..."  
"There's no way you're jumping off this rooftop," he insisted his brown eyes pinning in mine. For a second I was too preoccupied looking at him to respond properly.

"You can't really tell me what to do, you're not my father!"  
"That's true. But we," he shot a look towards Jo and then looked back at me "We've already fucked up our lives, you haven't yet..."  
"I told you already, I'm not that young! Maybe a year or two younger than you! And I want to kill myself, you cannot stop me!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

_Logan_

My first thought, after I'd brought Camille crashing to the ground, was that I didn't want Jo to sneak off and jump. It has nothing really to do with me wanting to save her life; it was more the thought that I didn't want her to take advantage of the situation, of the distraction, and jump. I thought it was wrong. Oh, oh okay maybe none of it makes much sense; I was practically ushering her over not five minutes before.

But Camille was both of our responsibility, as I saw it. We were both there when she came screaming at us and if she succeeded at jumping it should be both on me and Jo. My motives were essentially selfish; nothing new there, as Peggy would tell you.

After Camille and I had our idiotic conversation about how she was really older than she looked, I shouted at Jo to come and help me. She looked irritated as she came over to us.  
"Come 'ere!"

"What do you want me to do?"  
"Sit on her," I said and Jo cocked an eyebrow.  
"Sit on her?" she demanded and I nodded "No way!"

"Do you have to disagree with me on everything?" I snapped. Jo looked at Camille and then back at me,

"I'm not sitting on her," she said with a tone of finality. I gritted my teeth and settled better on Camille, still pinning her down with my weight.  
"Just let me go you bloody pervert! You're getting a thrill out of this, aren't you?"

Well obviously that stung a bit, given recent events. Apparently unlike Jo, Camille knew who I was...Or well, okay, maybe she didn't. I mean I did tackle her in the middle of the night on a rooftop, what kind of a man if not a pervert would do that? Still I decided to be the biggest person and rise above Camille's taunts.  
"If I let you go, are you going to behave?" I asked in a tone someone might use on a five year old.  
"Yes."

Giving her a stern look, I stood up and extended my hand towards her to help her on her feet. Camille squeezed a little harder than needed. Once on her feet she dusted herself off. I saw her eyeing the ladder and I quickly took a hold of both her arms holding her on place. Jo must have seen the look and she pushed the ladder farther away, and took a stance between it and Camille.

"Now what?" she asked like I was some kind of veteran in this kind of situations.  
"How should I know?" I snapped.  
I have no idea how it didn't occur to me that in one of the days in which statistically the majority of suicidal people decided to take their lives, that Topper' House rooftop would be like Madison Square Garden during a live concert. I was forced to accept the reality of our situation; we were in the process of turning a solemn and private moment into a farce with a cast of thousands.

And at that precise moment of acceptance, we three became four. There was a polite cough and when we turned to look, we saw a tall, good-looking, shaggy haired man, with prominent eyebrows and green eyes, roughly around my age, holding a crash helmet under one arm and one of those big insulated bags in the other.  
"Any of you guys order a pizza?" he asked.

**A/N: liked it? Hated it? I don't really know how I feel about it, so I'd love to hear your opinions! Oh, and btw, if you haven't read the book go buy it ASAP! It's all kinds of perfect! Anyway, until later, bye! **


	2. And then they were four

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the series, not the group, and definitely not Nick Hornby's book, I just based the story on it. **

**A/N: Wow, that was a tough chapter for me to write, and I think that's mostly because of Kendall. I think he's rather OOC but given the circumstances I think that's how he'd react. Anyway, on with the story! **

Chapter 2

And then they were four

_Jo_

In the last four years I've been living in England I've come across a total amount of zero American people. So it came as a complete surprise that the night I decided to take my own life I found myself on a rooftop not just with one but three of them. Sure I knew that there were Americans around; London was a multicultural city after all, but I'd never met one.

"How would we have ordered pizzas?" Camille asked him and tried to cross her arms but Logan holding on to them made it impossible for her.  
"On a cell," he said simply. Okay yeah, we could've used a cell, I give him that.  
"What are you doing delivering pizzas on New Year's Eve?" Camille asked him. He rose his, rather inappropriately huge for his face, eyebrows as he looked at her.  
"People don't order pizzas in New Years?" he asked but didn't give her any time to respond "Why are you restraining her?" he asked curiously looking straight at Logan.  
"Because apparently this is not a free country!" Camille snapped and tried to free her arms but Logan's grip was too tight for her.  
"You can do whatever you want," Logan told her and she opened her mouth "Except jump off this rooftop," he added.  
"You want to jump?" the pizza guy asked surprised.  
"That's not fair!" Camille exclaimed paying no attention to the blonde "Why can you two jump, and I can't?"  
"You were all gonna jump?" pizza-guy asked us. We didn't say anything. His eyes flickered between us and they lastly landed on me. I squirmed a little under the scrutinizing gaze but didn't look away; he had a rather pleasant face. After a long second he sat down, legs crossed Indian style, and shook his head. At first I thought that he was feeling sorry for us, but as he told us later, that wasn't the reason.

"Okay," he said and looked up at Logan "Let her go," Logan didn't "Do you freaking listen to me? Or should I come over there and make you listen?" he demanded jumping up.  
Logan huffed. His cheeks were getting red again. He glared at the newcomer, then he glared at Camille who looked at him triumphantly. He slowly let go of her arms and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Camille then narrowed her eyes and took a step closer to him studying his face. She yelped.  
"Ha! You're that bloke," she said and I saw Logan sifting awkwardly his weight from one foot to the other "The one that slept with the sixteen-year-old! You are a doctor," she said that in a lower, calculative voice "You looked older in the pictures."  
I had no clue to what she was referring. It's not like I have time to read gossip magazines; between my shift at the coffee house and the time I spent at the hospital, I barely have any free time to sleep.  
"You kidding?" pizza-guy said "The guy who went to prison? I read about you!"  
Logan made a groaning noise and lowered his head, hiding his face in his hands "Does everyone in Great Britain know?" his voice came out struggled.  
"Sorry buddy," pizza-guy said with an amused smile, not looking sorry at all "If I had to guess I'd say yes."

Camille was eyeing the pizzas for quite some time before she said,  
"Well give us some pizza then! What flavours have you got?"  
"I don't know."  
"You don't know?" Camille asked back and he just shrugged "Let me have a look, then."

"No...I mean..." pizza guy looked at Camille "They're not my pizzas, you know?"  
"Oh, don't be such a wuss," Camille chastised. I had no idea why she'd just called him a wuss, so don't ask. She leaned over, grabbed his bag and took out the pizza boxes. Then she opened one but quickly wrinkled her nose and pushed it away from her.  
"Ugh, this one is pepperoni," she said disgusted. Pizza-guy and Logan instantly reached for it "This one...ah! Thank god! This one is vegetarian!" she said happily. As I looked at the others sitting all around the pizza boxes I understood that there was no jumping before eating. So I slipped between Logan and pizza-guy and took a slice from the vegetarian pizza.

_Kendall_

I have told a couple of people about that night, and the only thing they find weird are the pizzas. Can you believe that? They totally get the suicide part; I mean, I guess that most people understand that part because, well, I think there's no one that deep down haven't thought at least that they didn't want to wake up the next day. Wanting to die seems like it might be part of living. I mean death is something we constantly think about, mostly in fear. We spent so much time of our lives being afraid of death that we sometimes forget to actually live. Anyway, I tell people the story of that New Year's Eve and no one of them is like "Wha? You were gonna off yourself?" it's more like "Oh, ok, I get it. Your band was fucked up, you were at the end of the line with your music... Plus you'd just gotten dumped by your girlfriend, the only reason why you were in this fucking country in the first place...Sure I get that. But what about the pizzas, man?"  
I don't get why they find it so weird. It's not like I had a master diploma in engineering, or that I had the means to get a job position in the ministry! I'm far from stupid, and since you don't know me you'll just have to take my word for it, but I don't have a degree. So what else was I supposed to do for a living after my band broke up?

Just so you know, anyone driving around North London on a shitty little moped on New Year's Eve for the minimum wage is not a loser, okay? Okay. Maybe delivering pizzas is a job for losers, but we are not all dumb assholes. In fact even with my community college degree, I was probably the dumbest out of all the guys at work, or well at least the worst educated one. I think the guy that works the shift before me, an African dude, is a lawyer, and I definitely know that the man who writes down the orders, an Armenian guy is a chemist.

Thing is, I don't understand how there are no pizza related incidents in our society. Think about it for a second; you are this great neuron-surgeon in Bangkok and for some reason, may it be political upheavals or a need of change in scenery, you decide to move to England, and you end up being patronized at three in the morning by some stoned teenager shit with the munchies...Shouldn't you be like legally entitled to break his jaw or something? Anyway. There's more than one way to be a loser. And there's certainly more than one way of losing.  
Do you know what the problem with our generation is? I do; we all think that we are geniuses, that doing something is not good enough. No we have to **be **someone. It's our inalienable right, as citizens of the twenty-first century. If Christina Aguilera, or Britney or some American Idol jerk can be something, then why can't I? Where's mine huh?  
When I was ten years old I couldn't think of being anything else than a hockey player. I was a damn good one too! In Minnesota everyone who is anyone knows how to skate. I was five the first time my father took me to the rink; I have to say that it was love at first sight. In high school, I was the youngest captain ever when in Sophomore year the coach gave me the title. Everyone knew that I was a shoe in Minnesota University, what with the team's talent scout giving me a handwritten invitation to skate with the team before even the season was over. And then the pre-last game of the season happened, and number 11, sore loser the bastard was, used his stick to hit me on the knees. He didn't even pretend to be sorry, he didn't even say it was an accident! He just stood there with a stupid, smug, smile on his face as my whole future crumbled in pieces around me.

Patella fracture is an injury to the kneecap. The patella is a very important bone that provides strength and extension to the knee joint. Mine was ruptured on the left leg. I had to go through surgery because I couldn't even straighten my leg, and let me tell you it was not something I enjoyed.  
I was depressed for a long time after that. I didn't even want to go to school. Senior year rolled over and my university scholarship was withdrawn. All I wanted was some kind of a miracle; something to take me away from the dreary reality that I'd grown tired of. And it happened; my childhood best friend, who'd moved away because of his father's job, came back. With Carlos' arrival everything seemed better. It wasn't, I still got moody, and there were times when not even he could make me stop crying. But Carlos helped; he was there when I needed him the most, no questions asked.

It was his idea to start the group. I was hesitant at first, my dream of being a professional hockey player was still very much alive in my mind. But Carlos pressed, and pressed, and pressed, until I gave in. And it was a decision I will never regret.

You see, my band, we put on the best live shows you could ever see in a bar, and we made two albums, which a lot of critics and not many real people liked. But having talent is never enough to make us happy, is it? It clearly should be, because talent is a gift, something we should thank God for, but I didn't. It just pissed me off because I wasn't being paid for it, and it didn't get me on the cover of _Rolling Stone_.

I read somewhere a quote of Oscar Wilde; "One's real life is often the life one does not lead." Fucking bull's eye my friend Oscar! My real life was full of hockey, and playing for the national team, wearing the national jersey, and scoring the winning goal for my country in the Olympics. When that life was taken away from me I was crashed. Until I had a new dream, a new life, one that was full of headlining shows at Wembley and Madison Square Garden and platinum records, and Grammies. Neither life came to be, and this is maybe why it felt like I could throw it away. The life I was leading didn't let me be who I thought I was. It didn't even let me stand up properly. It felt like I'd been walking down a tunnel that was getting narrower and narrower, and darker and darker, and had started to ship water; and I was on my knees, with a wall made of rock blocking me, and the only tools I had were my fingernails. And yeah that's maybe how everyone feels, but is this a reason good enough to stick with it? I don't think so. I was finally so sick of it, my fingernails were all torn and my fingers were bloodied. I couldn't dig any more. With the band gone and Lucy dumping me, I had nothing better to do than check out of my fucked up reality; I was going to fly off the bloody roof top like I was Superman...of course nothing ever goes according to plan.

I was shocked to discover that Logan, Camille and Jo were about to take the Vincent Van Gogh route out of this world (And yeah, I do know that Vincent Van Gogh did not jump off of Topper's House roof, it's a figure of speech). A doctor, a shrieking teenage lunatic, and a malnourished looking woman in her mid-twenties...It didn't add up. Suicide wasn't invented for people like this. It was invented for people like Virginia Woolf and Ian Curtis. And me. Suicide was supposed to be cool.

I should've known better than to choose New Year's Eve to put an end in everything; the end of the calendar year is a magnet for hopeless screw-ups who somehow succeed in persuading themselves that the specific day was in any way significant; it was a night for sentimental losers. It was just that when I got the order to deliver the pizzas to the squat in Topper's House, the opportunity seemed too good to turn it down. And then suddenly there I was with three potential suicides munching the pizzas.

"Now what?" Camille said.

"We eat our pizza," I replied shrugging.  
"And then?" she insisted.  
"Then you go home," Logan said matter-of-factly. She glared at him and I sighed.  
"Look, give it half an hour, ok? Then we see."  
"There's nothing to see," Logan stepped in again "She's going back home, end of story."  
"What's your deal any way?" Camille snapped at him.

"Let's cool off, for a little while," Jo said and we all looked at her "Things are getting pretty heated, there's no need for that," she explained and I nodded along "Let's wait for thirty minutes, is that agreed?"

Logan and Camille shrugged in unison and then glared at each other. I bobbed my head in agreement. Jo gave me a small smile and we continued eating our pizzas. It was the first time I'd tried one of our own, at the very least it was inedible. At worse, poisonous.

"I am not going to sit here for half an hour, looking at your miserable faces!" Camille shot at us fiery.  
"That's what you've just agreed not five minutes ago," Logan reminded her.  
"So what?" she asked challengingly raising an eyebrow. Logan sighed and gave her a firm look,  
"What is the point of agreeing to do something and then not doing it?" he demanded.

"No point," Camille said shrugging.

"Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative," Jo quoted Wilde under her breath. Camille glared at her.  
"She's being nice to you," Logan told her.  
"There's no point in anything, though is there?" she said "That's why we're up here!"

_Camille _

A not so long time ago, when I was nine or ten, I found this programme on tv about the history of Beatles. I loved the Beatles, but my parents couldn't stand them – come to think of it, maybe that was the reason why I liked them so much. Anyway when Ringo joined, you sort of felt this little shiver; that was it, that's how the greatest band of all years started. Well that's how I felt when Kendall walked up in the roof to join the rest of us with his pizzas. Now you probably think that I'm just saying that because it sounds cool. I swear though that I don't. I really felt the shiver, I knew that things were about to change. The fact that he had this rock star aura all around him must've helped. I could feel that we needed Kendall, so when he joined us it just felt right, you know? Kendall though wasn't Ringo, no he was more like Paul. I'd say that Logan was probably Ringo and Jo was probably George because she's shy and all that but not spiritual. And I was John, though I don't know if I'm as talented and cool as he was...You know what? Maybe we were more like another group with four people in it.

"I think we should talk," I suggested.

"What should we say? Share our pain?" Logan asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, why, scared to spill your dirty laundry?" I asked haughtily and he rolled his eyes.  
"Sure, because no one knows why I'm up here, right?"  
"I don't," Jo muttered but it was so low that I think Logan didn't hear her.  
"I don't see why we can't share our experiences," Kendall said then and I scoffed even if I was the one that suggested we should talk.  
"Who cares about your experiences? Your experiences revolve around delivering pizzas!" I saw something flicker in his eyes and then I knew; he was up there for the same exact reason as the rest of us.  
"Fine then," he gave in "Your experiences then," but it was too late and so I asked,  
"You came up here to jump, didn't you?" Kendall didn't say anything as Logan and Jo stared at him.

"Were you going to jump with the pizzas?" Logan teased and Jo chuckled "Because I'm sure that somebody ordered those."  
"Hey!" Kendall exclaimed his cheeks flushing "Of course I wouldn't! I'm a professional," he said proudly "I only came up here to inspect the place and then I'd go to deliver the damn pizzas, but then you three happened!"

"Well excuse us for deciding to jump the same night you did," Jo said snidely and Kendall gave her a dirty look.  
"You just don't look like the jumping type," Logan muttered then and Kendall frowned.  
"Well if you guys are the 'jumping type' then I can't say I'm sorry," he remarked. Yeah as you can see the atmosphere was rather charged.  
"Okay let's just talk," I started again "No need for pain-sharing. We can simply say our names and why we're up here. It might be interesting or we might actually learn something. We might even see a way out of this."  
Okay so I had a plan; my plan was that they'd help me find Steve. Then Steve and I would get back together, we could have our happy ending. And then I'd feel better. But they made me wait, because they wanted Jo to go first.

_Jo_

I think they picked me because I hadn't really said anything, and I hadn't rubbed anyone the wrong way...okay, maybe I had pissed Logan off but he looked like he was over that. Maybe they chose me because I was mysterious, of shorts; Logan, everyone seemed to know about from the newspapers, and Camille...we'd only known her for half an hour, but you could tell that this was a girl who had problems. My own feelings about Kendall were mixed; he gave me this vibe, like he was a trustworthy person, someone that if I got to know I would like. As Logan had already said I didn't peg him for a jumper but maybe I was wrong; there was this sadness in his eyes, only flashes of it, but it was there. Me though? You couldn't really tell anything about me from looking at me, so I think they were curious.

I didn't mind talking to them because really I didn't need to say much. None of these people would have wanted my life; I doubt they'd understand why I stuck to it for as long as I have.  
"Oh yeah," Camille said once I finished "That's a no-brainer. Don't change your mind. You'd only regret it."  
"Some people cope," Logan spoke up.  
"Who?" Camille questioned.  
"Well i had this case, this man, he was in a comma for over fifteen years and his wife just refused to pull the plug on him."  
"And what exactly was her reward? You mentioning her in this story?"  
"I'm just saying," Logan said irritated.  
"What are you saying?" Camille pressed. He huffed.  
"I'm saying that it can be done. As a doctor I've seen many people that were not willing to let their loved ones die."  
"Still I don't see why," Camille commented and Kendall looked at her incredulously.  
"Because as he said; they are their loved ones! You don't just let someone that you love to die!"  
They spoke quickly. Like they knew the first thing of what I was going through! Logan probably did, but from the doctor's side. He'd never had anyone suffer like Alex did. He didn't spend the last nine years of his life talking to someone that couldn't talk back to him.  
"What is there to love?" Camille was saying "I mean, he was a vegetable! A sleeping, unresponsive vegetable!"  
"Just because they don't speak back doesn't mean that they don't listen," Logan said "Research showed that most comma patients when they come back have memories of conversations that were held around them when they were unconscious," he lectured and Camille just rolled her eyes.  
"I do love my sister," I said. I didn't want them to think that I didn't.  
"We know that," Kendall said with a warm smile "We never wanted to imply otherwise."

"You can always do what your father did, pack your things up and go," Camille said shrugging. I felt my eyes filling up. Kendall looked at Camille angrily.  
"What the hell? Look what you did now!"  
"Sorry...It was just an idea," she apologized.

But that wasn't why I was crying. I was crying because all I wanted, other from Alex waking up – and I had long ago given up on the idea of that happening, was to get as far away from her as I could. So I didn't have to talk to her unresponsive face, so I didn't have to see my baby sister growing older and yet in some way staying the same as the years passed by. I just wanted to run away. And that only made me cry more.

_Logan _

Everyone knew everything about me, so I didn't really see the point of telling them about it.  
"Oh c'mon man," Kendall said with a small shake of his head.

"We just want to hear your side of it," Camille told me. The girl was pressing all the wrong buttons.

"There isn't a 'my side'. I was a freaking idiot and I'm paying the price."  
"So you don't want to defend yourself?" Kendall asked raising those giant eyebrows of his "Because you're among friends here."  
"Oh please, if she could, she would have me beheaded," I pointed out looking at Camille.  
"That's not true," she said and I just blinked at him "And besides, my friends always say they want to throttle me, I never take it personally."  
"Have you thought that maybe you should?" Jo asked her "Perhaps that's how your friends intend it to be taken."  
Camille snorted "If I took it personally, I wouldn't have any friends left," no one said anything to that one.  
"So what do you want to know, that you don't know already?" I asked knowing that I'd probably regret it.  
"There are two sides to every story," Kendall said "We only know the bad side."  
"Okay...I didn't know she was fifteen," I said "She told me she was eighteen. She did look eighteen," me myself I was twenty five, soon to turn twenty six, I thought that the age gap was appropriate. That was the only good side of the story.

"So if she'd been, like, six months older you wouldn't be up here?"  
"It depends," I said shrugging.  
"Depends on what?" Jo asked.  
"On whether my wife had found out or not," I said feeling my stomach turning again.  
"Because if she hadn't she wouldn't have divorced you?" Camille guessed. I shook my head.  
"Because if she hadn't she wouldn't have been so angry and depressed and she wouldn't have lost the baby."  
"Your wife was pregnant?" Kendall asked surprised his eyes bugging out.  
"And you still slept with the underage?" Camille asked angrily her nostrils flaring. I lowered my head, it was all the answer they needed "Oh my god, what kind of a sick, sick, sick, pervert are you?"  
"Oh for fuck's sake!" I snapped "Why'd you think I've been dangling my feet over the ledge? I screwed up! I'm not trying to make excuses for myself, I feel so wretched that I want to die!"  
"I should hope so," she said coldly.

"Thanks. And thanks for introducing me to this exercise, too. Very helpful, very...curative," she threw me a dirty look.  
"I'm interested in something," Kendall said.  
"By all means, carry on."  
"Why is it easier to take a jump than face up to what you've done?"

"This is me facing up to what I've done," I said running a hand through my hair.  
"People are always fucking young girls..."  
"People though aren't the reason why their unborn child dies."  
"Shit happens every day."  
"So that means that I should feel okay about it?" I asked appalled.  
"No I didn't say that! But I don't think that the best way to deal with it is with a somersault from up here."  
"Well, I'll have to side with Camille on this one; because I do."  
Losing my medical license and Peggy was one thing. Spending three months in prison until my bail hearing was bad. But losing my baby was a whole other fucking kind of nightmare. When they called from the hospital, I still had some friends there, to tell me that Peggy had showed up with abdominal pain and blood spotting time stopped. Nothing else mattered other than Peggy and the baby being alright. Not my ridicule, not the pain from the divorce, not the fact that I was jobless, that my dream since I was five years old had crashed and burned. Everything seemed so trivia, so unimportant.

I don't remember how I reached the hospital. I am not sure how many red lights I'd sped past through, I don't know how I managed not to hit anyone the way I was running. I didn't even lock the car. When I asked about her at the registry they told me she was in surgery; they were trying to take the baby out in order to save them both.

I begged them to let me go in; I was a surgeon, a damn good one, I could help! But I didn't have my license, and being the father of the baby my head would not be in the game as the chief told me; I could end up doing more harm than good. So I stayed out.  
Peggy was five months along. She was so excited and so was I. I always wanted to be a father ever since I was a little kid. My own dad wasn't the best role model but I can't say that he didn't love me; he was just not around as much as I'd like him to be. I still don't understand why I did what I did that night with Hannah, that's the fifteen year old. It was the first time I cheated on Peggy, the only time I cheated on anyone. I was drank but that doesn't excuse me; I knew what I was doing when I hit on her, I knew what she was doing when she started flirting back. I could stop it, walk away. But I didn't.

It was only an hour but it seemed like a century. I nearly opened a ditch in the waiting area; I just couldn't stay still. My guilty conscience wouldn't leave me alone; it was my fault, it was all my fault! We'd made so many dreams about that baby, we already loved it so much, and now we were faced with the possibility of losing it.

Being a doctor I could read the signs; I could read the posture of the surgeon when he approached me, besides Tim was never good at hiding his feelings, I could make out the ghost of a sad smile that played at his lips. It was a boy, the baby that wouldn't be. I'd lost my son because of my own stupidity. Peggy was in hysterics; she cried and cursed, she threatened to kill me, I wished she'd gone through with it. Her OB/GYN was also present during the surgery; he said that Peggy had been under too much stress, and that she hadn't been taking good care of herself. They both reassured me that they'd tried but the baby's heart wasn't strong enough...

How can anyone move on after that? How can anyone continued living? Would I ever stop berating myself about it? I doubted that. So know, maybe, it's clearer why I was on the rooftop. Know maybe you can understand why living was pointless. I don't want you to sympathize with me; frankly I don't even care if you do understand after all.

"You really think that anyone who makes a mistake of this kind should die?" Kendall asked bringing me out of my thoughts. I blinked at him and rubbed my chin.  
"Honestly?" I asked and he nodded "Not every mistake no. But this one, yes."  
"Jesus," Kendall said "You're real tough on yourself."  
"I don't think I'm being tough enough," I deadpanned. There was a thoughtful silence, for about ten seconds.  
"Right," Camille said "My turn."

_Camille_

I know what I said about Logan, and I meant it. He was a sick pervert for cheating on his wife when she was pregnant. Still I didn't see why losing the baby was his fault; she was the one that didn't take care of herself, it's not like he kept her starved or anything. And I guess it was the press' fault too; what with the photographers practically camping outside Logan's house. They were the ones that stressed her out, she was the one that didn't take care of herself. Sure the divorce helped to bring her down, but that didn't mean she had the right to give up on her child, because if you ask me that's what she did. All in all I think that even if it was a tragedy, it was a mistake; just like Kendall said 'Shit happens every day'.

They all looked at me expectantly.  
"Ugh, yeah. My name is Camille, and I'm twenty three," I said and they all gasped, I smirked "See, I'm not as young as I look, I told you! Anyway, I'm here because I had some family problems, that I don't really want to get into," I shook my hand about my face "Then I split up with this guy. Steve. And he owes me an explanation. Because he didn't say anything. He just left me. But if he'd given me an explanation I'd feel better, I think, because he broke my heart. But, I can't find him. I was at the party downstairs looking for him, and he wasn't there. So I came up here..."  
"You're going to kill yourself because Steve didn't turn up?" Logan asked sarcastically "Jesus."

"I never said that!"  
"Okay, you're up here because you're owed an explanation, then. Is that it?" He was trying to make me sound stupid, and that wasn't fair.

"That wasn't what I said either. I said an explanation might stop me. Did I say that it's the reason why I'm here? No. See we could handcuff you to those railings, and that would stop you. But you're not up here because no one's handcuffed you to railings, are you?" I said and he shut up. I smiled smugly, something I'm sure he didn't appreciate.

"You really liked that Steve guy, huh?" Kendall asked.  
"Well, duh!"  
"Do you know where he is?"  
"I thought he'd be here, but...I guess he's at some party."  
"So...Why don't you go looking for him?" Jo said and I jumped a little; I'd forgotten that she was there for a minute.

"Because," I said empathetically, my head rolling forward, my hair cascading over my face "I've run out of energy and hope."  
I don't know you. The only think that I know about you, is that you're reading this. I guess you must be pretty unhappy in order to force yourself to read our sad little story. I don't know whether you're old or young, all though, I do secretly hope that you are young and sad. If you're old and happy, I can imagine that you'll maybe smile to yourself when you hear me whining about Steve breaking my heart. You'll remember someone who broke your heart, and you'll think to yourself, oh yes, I can remember how that feels. Oh, sorry, flash news! No you don't! You might remember feeling sort of pleasantly sad, listening to sad music and eating chocolates in your bed. Can you remember how every mouthful of food felt like you were biting on your own stomach? Can you remember dreaming every night that you were still together, that he was talking to you gently touching you, so that every morning when you woke up you had to go through it all over again? Can you remember waking up in the middle of the night and crying your eyes out while holding a sharp knife in your hands, wondering whether dying would be just easier? No? Shut the hell up then!

_Kendall _

I didn't plan on lying to them. I was just going to tell them the whole truth; about hockey, The Rush, Lucy, you know the real reasons why I was up there. Now though, after hearing all their problems, the truth wouldn't come out of my mouth. I mean, Jesus, everyone understood that Jo's life was not actually worth living. And sure Logan had dug his own grave, but no one should feel as guilty as he did, over something that wasn't entirely his fault to begin with. And Camille...well, Camille was very nuts and very depressed. I was aiming to be the humiliated dude but Logan had snatched that part away from me, and well, my problems did pale in comparison to his.

"So...I'm Kendall and..." I couldn't continue for Camille burst in laughs. I tilted my head and waited for her to stop, then I raised my eyebrows questioningly.  
"Sorry, but that's a girl's name," she said and started sniggering again.

I sighed. Why did people always have to comment on that? It's not like I chose the fucking name on my own! And plus, it was a unisex name, not a pretty common one on the male population but still. I just hated my name! It helped that it was picked by my scum-bag of a father too.  
"Oh yeah, cause Logan is a totally manly name, huh?" I lashed out.  
"Hey!" Logan exclaimed "I didn't say anything about your name!"

"Logan is much manlier," Camille said. Logan opened his mouth to defend himself and then he realised that she was actually on his side. So he crossed his arms and smiled coyly.  
"Kendall is a unisex name for your information."  
"Okay...then tell me someone else, who was named that. Oh and I mean a guy," Camille said. I set my jaw and tried to think but I came up blank. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards and I groaned "You can't really come up with anything can you? Well that's because Kendall is a girl name..."  
"Enough!" Jo snapped. We all looked at her "All this childish fighting is getting on my nerves. Will you just shut up and let him talk?"

"Jeez, it looks like I pissed off your girlfriend," Camille commented. I scoffed and Jo glared at me. Logan cleared his throat.

"Shut up Camille," he ordered. For a second I thought that she was going to slap him or something but she surprised me by doing exactly what he said.

But for me the moment was gone. I could tell that I wasn't going to get a fair hearing; there were waves of hostility coming off of everyone, and these waves were breaking everywhere. I stared at them.  
"So...did you like, forget why you were going to kill yourself?"

"Of course I haven't forgotten!"  
"Spit it out then."  
"I'm dying," I blurted out.  
"Yeah, well you don't look great," Camille said and I was very much tempted to forcefully shut her up "What you got? Aids?"

AIDS fitted the bill; everyone knew you could wander around with it for months; everyone knew it was incurable. But I'd met a couple of guys in the business that had died from it and it wasn't something to mock around. But there wasn't a fatal disease that would be like 'no, go on man, be my guest. I'm only a joke killer disease, I'm not serious enough to offend anyone." And the thing was that I couldn't wing it; Logan was a doctor, I couldn't tell him that I was suffering from a fatal disease that didn't exist!  
"Uh, lung cancer," I said at long last. Logan narrowed his eyes at me "It's still on an early stage."  
"Then you can try..."  
"What chemo?" Logan rolled his eyes.  
"Cancer treatment doesn't start with chemotherapy..."  
"Yeah but it ends with it," I said. Logan sifted on his seat.  
"Well not necessarily..."  
"No man, seriously, thanks, but no thanks," I said.

"So you'll just give up?" Jo asked. I turned to her and pinned into her eyes; hmm, beautiful eyes they were.  
"Isn't that what we are all doing up here?" I asked and she looked away. She brushed a couple of locks from her face.

"You win," Camille said.  
"I do?"I asked pleased. I didn't know that there was a competition between us about who had the most reasons to kill himself. But nonetheless it felt good to finally win at something.  
"Oh yeah. Dying, fuck, that's you know...like a floss royal in poker," Camille said shaking her head. Logan and I both looked at her questioningly but didn't comment.

"I'd say that having a fatal disease was only any good in this game," Logan said "The 'who's-the-most-miserable bastard game'."

"How long have you got it?" Camille asked.  
"I told you it's on early stages."  
"Yeah but how long?" she pressed.  
"Shut up, Camille," it must've been the hundredth time that Logan said that to her that night.  
"I just want to know what we're dealing with here."  
"We're not dealing with anything. I am."  
"Well, not very well."  
"Really? And you'd know about that huh? A girl that can't even handle a break up?" we fell into a hostile silence.

"Here we are all then," Logan said.  
"Now what?" Camille asked. She sounded to me like a broken record.  
"For starters, you go home," said Logan.  
"Like hell I am! Why should I?"  
"Because I say so," he said sternly "And because we'll march you there," Camille sighed and narrowed her eyes.  
"I'll go home on one condition."  
"Go on."  
"You help me find Steve first."  
"What all of us?" Logan asked and she nodded.  
"Yeah. Or I really will kill myself. And I'm too young to do that. You said so."  
"Maybe I wasn't so right...You're wise beyond your years. I can see that now," he said sardonically.

"So it's okay if I go over?" she asked and started walking all the while keeping her eyes on him. The moment she brushed past Logan he darted out and grabbed her arms. She smiled arrogantly.

"Look I don't really give a shit. You either help me find Steve, or I jump. Your choice."

And that's the whole thing; we believed her. She would've really jumped. It's not that she was suicidal; it's just that it felt like she might do whatever she wanted to do, at any given moment, and if she felt like she wanted to jump of a building just for the heck of it, then she'd do it. Still though it all boiled down to how much we cared.

"You don't need our help to find him," Jo was the first one to speak up.  
"Yeah, we don't know how to start looking for Steve," Logan said, his hands still gripping on her arms "You're the only one who can find him."  
"Yes but I get weird on my own. Confused. Dramatic. Way to emotional...That's how I ended up here in the first place."  
"What do you think?" Logan asked us. Jo shook her head.  
"I'm not going anywhere. I've made my decision, and I'm not changing it."  
"No one asked you too," I said and she bit on her lip.  
"I have to do it tonight."  
"Why?" I asked.  
"Because then I won't be dead by tomorrow. And I won't have a reason not to show up at the hospital. And then they'll call and ask why I wasn't there and I'll panic..."  
"Hey, hey, calm down," Logan told her in a soothing voice. Jo shut up and took a deep breath "Look, I know that you want to do this, and I promise that we won't stop you. But you can do it tomorrow night, I'm sure that no one will notice you missing at the hospital."

"C'mon it won't even take that long, we'll probably be back here by four," Camille said and I looked at her confused.  
"We? I thought that if we find Steve then you won't go on with it."  
"Well if we find him, if not..."  
"You're still not going through with it," Logan said firmly. Camille sulked.  
"Anyway, right now the moment has passed, I can tell. None of us is going to jump," she said and paused as if expecting someone to object when no one did she nodded "So we've got to find something else to do."  
"Even if you're right and the moment has passed," I said crossing my arms over my chest "Why do we have to do anything together?"  
"Cause I get weird on my own, I told you!"  
"And why should we care? It's not like I knew you half an hour ago," I said shrugging "I don't give two shits whether you get weird on your own or not."  
"You tell me you don't feel like a bond kind of thing because of what we've been through?" she asked and I shook my head.  
"Nope."  
"You will," she said and smiled widely. Her eyes danced between us before settling on Logan "I can see all of us being friends when we are old and grey." There was a silence, clearly that was not a shared vision.

**A/N: What do you think? Was it any good? I still have my doubts...Oh and btw, does anyone know when the new episode will air? **


	3. Party Crashers

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the series, not the group, and definitely not Nick Hornby's book, I just based the story on it. **

**A/N: Shorter chapter than usual, but I'll update again tomorrow. I have the whole thing written but it was too long so I thought to break it in halves. Anyway I'll have to go after uploading this, so the rest I'll upload it tomorrow. Enjoy! P.S Thanks a million for your reviews, they make my day! **

Chapter 3

Party crashers

_Jo_

I didn't like it that Logan was trying to make my anxiousness sound stupid. Okay, maybe it was; I mean he used to work in the hospital and he didn't remember seeing me there even though I remember him. But I knew that there were people that would notice, like Alex's doctor, Dr. Montgomery. And there were nurses that would notice, nurses that put a quilt over me whenever I fell asleep on that uncomfortable white armchair, nurses that would bring me coffee, and ask me how I felt. People would notice if I didn't show up at the hospital...that didn't necessarily mean that they would suspect that there was something wrong with me.

They didn't understand, I could tell. I mean, they could understand that I was unhappy; I think it was obvious in my whole demeanour. But they couldn't understand the logic of it. They couldn't see why I wasn't leaving; Camille had asked me as much. I guess that goes to show that they didn't understand me.

Alex was my sister, and I loved her. But she wasn't the only reason I stayed behind when my father hadn't. I had grown up in a strict Catholic family and that meant that I couldn't very well do whatever I wanted. Because I had the Church, because God watched each and every one of my moves. My father had disappointed me but I couldn't shake off me the beliefs that he had ensued upon me and Alex. I was twenty four and I still didn't know whether or not I believed in God, but I knew that I was afraid of Him.

But Logan, Kendall and Camille didn't have the Church. They were so different and I didn't know how to tell them that. They're not me but I wish I was them. Well maybe not them exactly because they're not so happy either. But I wish I was one of those people, the people that simply didn't care. Maybe then living would be easier.

When Logan asked me if I really wanted to die I came to a stop. The obvious answer was yes. Yes of course I do, you fool! That's why I was on Topper's House in New Years Eve, that's why I've been lying to my sister for the past months even though she doesn't hear me...But there's another answer. And the other answer crawled up on my throat and nearly made it out of my lips as the terror of my situation consumed me; No of course not! Of course I don't want to die you fool! Please stop me, please help me, please make me into the kind of person who wants to live!

"Well?" Logan pressed "You okay with waiting until tomorrow night?"  
"What about the hospital?" I asked wrapping my arms around my body. Logan rolled his eyes.  
"They won't notice," he said and when he saw me opening my mouth he hurried "And even if they do I doubt that they'll think something of it. Trust me," and I don't know why, but I did.

"Okay, do you have a phone?" Camille asked looking at him expectantly.

"I do..."

"Sweet! Gimme," she said demandingly.

"Don't you have one?"  
"My battery died," she said shrugging. Logan groaned and took out his cell. If I wasn't staring at him I wouldn't have noticed, but I was and I did. Something else slipped out of his pocket. Camille quickly darted and picked it up "What do we have here?" she said in a sing-song voice.

I noticed Logan's eyes getting wide as he saw the note in Camille's hands. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and spun around facing the other way. Kendall must've noticed the mortified expression on his face for with one swift move the note was out of Camille's hands and into his.  
"Hey!" Camille exclaimed trying to reach for it. Kendall held it over his head making it impossible for her to take it back.  
"Nah-huh, no way," he said firmly. Camille huffed and crossed her arms while pouting "Here you go buddy," he said handing it back to Logan.  
"What? You aren't even going to read it?" Camille asked affronted.  
"Thanks," Logan said to Kendall who just dipped his head forward in acknowledgment.

"Well I bet it sucked anyway," Camille said offhandedly.  
"Camille," I heard myself say before I could stop "Do you try to be so obnoxious, or it comes natural to you?" I heard Kendall sniggering.  
"I'm not gonna dignify that with an answer," she said holding her head higher "And anyway, if we read his then I'd let you read one of mine, I'm sure they are better."  
"They? As in plural?" Kendall asked his green eyes shining with doubt.  
"I'm always writing them," Camille said and the rest of us just gaped at her "What?"  
"I imagine that most of us have just written the one," Logan said. Camille shrugged.  
"I keep changing my mind," she said "Nothing wrong with that, it's a big decision."  
"One of the biggest," Logan said back and I wasn't sure whether he was messing with her or not. He stuffed his suicide letter back in his pocket and fidgeted with his phone. As soon as he turned it on it started ringing. He pressed a button and put the phone to his ear listening to a recorded message, I suppose.  
"Someone loves you," Camille said in her sing-sang voice but I noticed that she didn't sound so cheerful. Logan ignored her. Once he was done Camille extended her hand in demand of the phone.  
"I didn't even agree on coming," he reminded her. Camille's lower lip jutted out and Logan's eyes narrowed "Where is this Steve guy anyway?"  
"I don't know, that's why I need your phone! I guess at some party, somewhere...Is that what it depends on?"

"Well, yeah! I'd rather jump off the fucking building that try and get a cab to go somewhere in South London at four in the morning!"  
"He doesn't know anyone in South London," Camille responded. Logan set his jaw and looked at Kendall.  
"Hey, I'm game if you are," the blonde said shrugging.  
"Crap," Logan muttered under his breath and ran a hand through his short brown hair. He looked at the three of us. He sighed then and handed Camille the phone.

Great! So instead of dying we'd all huddle up and start looking for Camille's boyfriend. I mean that's exactly how I'd rather spend the first night of the year, if not committing suicide. Camille went to the other side of the roof where no one could hear her, and we waited to be told where we were going.

_Logan_

I know what you are thinking, all you clever, judging people; you're thinking 'oh, this guy wasn't serious. He would've never gone through with it, he would never jump'. And I can understand why you might be thinking that. I climb a stairwell, while being plastered, dangle my feet over the edge and then when some dippy girl asks me to help find her ex-boyfriend at some party, I shrug and wander off with her. I see that my behaviour doesn't necessarily scream suicidal.

First of all, I'll have you know that I scored very highly on Aaron T. Beck's Suicide Intent Scale. Did you even know that there was a scale? Nope? I thought so. Well there is, and I reckon I got something like twenty-one out of thirty points, a fact that pleased me very much as you can probably imagine. Now all of my answers were spot on, I mean I was quite ready to die. But I think, there were two questions where I might not have received maximum points, which deal with what Aaron T. Beck calls isolation and timing. Now you might argue that as we chose the most popular suicide spot in North London on one of the most popular suicide nights of the year, intervention was almost inevitable; I will counter by saying that maybe we were just incredibly self-absorbed.

Still though, if it hadn't been for the teeming throng up there, I wouldn't be around today, so maybe old Beck is bang on the money. We may not have been counting on anyone saving us, I know that I hadn't, but once we were all together up there, once we started bumping into each other, there was this desire to just...just shelve the whole idea, at least for the night. Descending those stairs was not something that we willingly did. We hadn't come by miracle to the realization that life was beautiful and worth living. No if I had to guess I'd say that we were all a little bit more miserable than when we got up there, and that's because we knew where the solution of our problems lied but it was not available to us, at least not in the moment. Up in the roof there was this weird sort of nervous excitement; the time we spent up there, we lived outside the world, outside our realms of reality. Up there street-level laws did not apply. Our problems had driven us on the Topper's House rooftop, but our problems did not exist up there, it was like they were unable to climb the stairs and follow us. And now, now we had to go back down and face them again. But it didn't feel like we had any choice.  
First of all because finding Steve would stop Camille from jumping, and I really wanted her not to jump. It was a weird over-protective feeling that came from somewhere within me, even when I felt like throttling her. And secondly because us four, we had formed a nation suddenly; I had hardly exchanged a word with Jo and I didn't even know her surname; but she understood more about me than my wife had done in the last three years of our marriage. Jo knew that I was unhappy, because of where she'd met me, and that meant she knew the most important thing about me; Peggy could never understand the hidden meaning behind my words.

_Kendall_

While Camille called everyone she knew to find out where this guy Steve was at. I was leaning on the wall, looking down at the city, trying to figure out what I'd listen to at that exact moment if I'd taken my iPod with me. The firs thing that came to my mind was The Beatles and 'Here comes the sun' because it was my mother's favourite song and whenever I heard it I was always taken back to a time when everything in life was simple, and sweet and silly, when nothing hurt. And then I started humming the Cure's 'In Between Day's' which made a little more sense; this whole roof-thing, it wasn't today, or the next day, or the next year. No it was an in-between kind of limbo, seeing as we hadn't yet made up our minds.

Camille was on the phone for approximately fifteen minutes talking to friends from University. When she came back she said that her best guess was that Steve was at a party in Shoreditch. So we climbed down the stairs, zigzagged through the passed out bodies that were strewn all around the first floor and walked out, back on the street, where we waited for a cab while freezing. Camille was the only one doing all the talking.  
"It will be Sasha's party, so I guess it will be the normal lot."  
"Ah," Logan said puffing hot air in his hands "The normal lot," his irony went lost in Camille.  
"Yeah, probably Stephanie, and Sasha since it's her party, and Jennifer with her posse," she said in detest "They're all called Jennifers by the way, but I know that only the blond one is really named Jennifer. I mean the curly haired one came up to me when I started in the University and introduced herself as Marsha. But they're weird and I don't really like them," Camille was talking a mile a minute and we had some trouble keeping up with her "Oh and Buddha-Bob will probably be there, it will be awesome! You'll love him if you meet him!" Logan groaned and hid his face in his hands; Jo looked positively ill.

A young African guy driving a shitty old Ford pulled alongside us. He wound down the passenger window and leaned over,  
"Where you going?"  
"Shoreditch."  
"Thirty pounds."  
"Piss off," Camille barked.  
"Shut up," Logan ordered and got in the front seat "My treat," he said. The rest of us got in the back.  
"Happy New Year," said the driver.  
I noticed that Jo was looking out of the window, taking in the city, smiling. It was like she hadn't been out in days, and well probably she hadn't, unless you count going from the hospital to the cafe then back to the hospital and then home as going out.

"Party?" said the driver.  
"Yup, can't you see the excitement in our faces?" Logan asked dryly. Camille rolled her eyes but didn't comment.  
It was maybe four-thirty in the morning by now, but there were tons of people around. Everyone seemed to be in a group. Sometimes people waved to us; Camille always waved back.

"How about you?" she asked peering at the driver from the rear view mirror "You working all night? Or are you gonna go and have a few somewhere?"  
"Nope, not such a luck, all night shift," said the driver.  
"Bad luck," Camille said and patted his shoulder. The driver laughed mirthlessly.  
"Yeah...Bad luck."  
"Does your girlfriend mind?"  
"Sorry?"  
"Your girlfriend, does she care? About you working all night?"

"No...not now...Although I don't doubt that she would if...where she's now, no," he stuttered a little.

Anyone that wasn't Camille would've stopped there. Anyone with any life experience could've figure out that this was a man with a story, a story that should be left alone. Anyone with half a brain and any sense would have stopped right there.  
"Oh...bad woman huh?"  
I flinched, and I saw Jo doing the same from the corner of my eye. Bigmouth strikes again.  
"No, not bad. Dead," the cabbie said matter-of-factly. Camille squirmed in her seat and I saw her cheeks turning red.  
"Oh..." she trailed off.

"Bad man, too drunk to drive, killed her. Crashed on her," he said and Jo shivered profoundly next to me. I looked at her but she turned her face towards the window blocking me out.  
"Oh," Camille said again.

At least Camille stopped after that. I was afraid she was going to ask him whether or not they'd catch the guy. So we drove on, thinking our thoughts. I was willing to bet that our thoughts all contained, a version of the same question; why hadn't we seen him up there? Or had he been up and come down like us?

When we reached our destination, Logan gave him a very large tip, and he was pleased and grateful and called us friends. I doubt he'd want to be friends with any of us if he knew us better.

Jo was hesitant; she didn't want to come up with us. But Camille took a hold of her wrist and started dragging her towards the building. We walked up to a room that was the closest thing I've seen to a New York loft since I've been here. Although I know that it cost a lot more than an actual NYC loft. It was still packed, even in four in the morning, and it was full of my least favourite people; fucking art students. I mean Camille had warned us; she said that she was an art student and that the party was held by people that went to school with her. But it still came as a shock. All those woolly hats, and the moustaches with parts of them missing, all those new tattoos...

Don't get me wrong, I'm a liberal guy, but this people still fill my heart with fear and loathing. Mostly because I know that they wouldn't have liked my band. Whenever we played a college town, and we walked out and we came face to face with a crowd like this, I knew that we were gonna gave a hard time. They don't like the Ramones, or REM, or Duran-Duran...they don't like real music these people. They like DJ Bleepy and his fucking bleeps! Or they pretend that they're freaking gangstas and listen to hip-hop, while having no idea what the lyrics of the songs actually mean.

I was worried that I was going to get into a fight; Carlos always said that I had anger management issues. But this time my anger would be rightful because I already knew what I would fight about; I'd probably end up defending either Logan or Jo from the sneers of some shithead with a goatee. But it never happened.

There was only one incident that made me think that I might have to break someone's nose. Logan was standing there drinking wine straight out of a bottle, if you ask him that now he'll say he didn't but I assure you I don't lie, and these two guys started staring at him.  
"Dude, look, it's that guy! Logan...something," one of them said and I winced; Logan's face had been all over the news, he was essentially a celebrity; even art students noticed. But this was more complicated than a straightforward recognition.  
"Oh yeah! The guy that went with the underage...Mitchell! Logan Mitchell," the other one said and his friend high fived him.  
"Oi, Mitch!" the first one called out. Logan gave them a pleasant smile, and I was kind of in awe by his ability to stay calm.  
"People must say that to you all the time," the second guy said.  
"What?"

"Call you his name and all that..." Logan frowned a little but then he nodded.  
"Well, yes," he said "They do."  
"Bad luck, though. Of all the people that you could end up looking like, you had to go and pick that prick."

"Well I didn't really have a choice," Logan said with a rather cheerful, what-can-you-do shrug, and then turned back to me.  
"You okay?" I asked eyeing the two duche-bags warily.

"That's life," he said looking at me. He'd somehow managed to give an old cliché new depth.

Jo meanwhile was trying to brash off a dude with a black fedora. He was slowly but steadily entering her personal space and Jo tried not to run away. She had her hands clasped tightly in front of her and avoided to look on his face. I looked at Logan who after a second of contemplation inclined his head towards Jo. He didn't really need to say the words.  
"Hey!" I said happily and placed my arm around Jo's waist. I felt her tensing against me but didn't take it personally "I hope I didn't take too long?" I asked looking down at her. Jo offered me a smile.  
"Well...you kinda did, but all that matters is that you're here now," she said and pinned in my eyes. For a second I was all too enthralled by her presence to take notice of the fedora-guy glaring at me.  
"Could I help you with something?" I asked but he didn't say anything "Jo, is this a friend of yours?" I asked. Jo shook her head "Well then, why don't you go missing?" I asked my tone getting lower and cooler. Fedora-guy glared at me for a second and then walked away. Instantly Jo pulled away from me.  
"Thanks," she said her cheeks tinted red.  
"Always happy to be of service," I said and made a little bow. Jo chuckled "You want a drink?" I asked. Jo's eyes scanned the people around us.  
"Where's Camille?"  
"Looking for Steve."  
"And then we go?"  
"Sure."  
"Good I don't know how much more I can stand all the fedoras, and the trench coats and the plastic shoes..."

"Oh, god me either," I exclaimed. Jo arched an eyebrow "I kind of hate art students," I said impishly. If you are an art student and you are reading this, please don't take it personally. It's just that I've never met one of you that's actually a decent human being.  
"I just hate phony people, I have nothing against art students," Jo said.

"It is essentially the same thing," I said and Jo shook her head a little.  
"Do you think that she'll find him? I don't feel like I'm up for another party," Jo said bracing herself against a wall. I did the same.  
"Well I don't know. I do know that we are stuck together until we find him," I said and she looked at me.  
"Well, maybe that's not an entirely bad thing," was she flirting with me? "You're good company," she was definitely flirting with me "A good distraction until..."  
"Ah...until the inevitable," I said and she nodded. "You want a drink?" I asked.  
"I wanted a beer, but..."  
"Art students," I mumbled under my breath "Beer is too mundane."  
"You're generalizing Kendall," she chastised, but I didn't mind; I liked the way she said my name.  
"I think I saw some wine," I said and she perked up a little.  
"Oh, that sounds nice," she said and I wandered off in search for the wine bottle that I spotted when we first arrived "Didn't take you too long," she said when I offered her a paper cup.  
"I worried that fedora-guy would come back and force you to put a hat on or something," I said. It was the first time I heard her laugh; Jo had a nice laugh.

"Cheers," she said when she stopped, her face red, her eyes sparkling.  
"Cheers."  
"Every New Year's the same, huh?" she said and I tilted my head on the side.  
"How do you mean?"  
"You know," Jo started "Warm white wine, a bad party full of jerks..."  
"Where were you this time last year?" I asked. Jo looked at her shoes.  
"At the hospital with Alex."  
"So, not a full-jerk party for you?" she gave me a small smile.  
"Where were you?" she asked.  
"I was at a party at home. With my ex, Lucy."  
"Nice?"  
"It was okay, yeah..."  
"Did you think...a year ago..?" she trailed off.  
"A year ago? No, probably not...Did you?"  
"I think so," she said. I didn't really know how to follow up, so we sipped our drinks and watched the jerks.

**A/N: Mmm, will you look at that? There's development on the Kendall/Jo department! I just have to warn you that this is not a romance story, so I don't really know how and if the pairings will work out, but I'll try I promise. Did you like this chapter? Yes? No? Let me know! **


	4. Party Crashers part 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the series, not the group, and definitely not Nick Hornby's book; I just based the story on it. **

**A/N: Told ya that I would update again today! I've had a problem with Jo's parts; they gave me a hard time. I don't know if they're any good, but I like the rest of the chapter, which is weird for me since I don't like anything that write...Anyway, enjoy!**

Chapter 3

Party crashers part 2

_Jo_

I excused myself and went to the bathroom, or something that was considered a bathroom. I had been in a loft before, when I lived in the States and that place definitely had a bathroom, with walls and a door and whatnot. This was a railway station toilet; there was just a little wall separating the bath and the toilet from the rest of the loft, so you know, you could use the toilet but in your own expense; say if someone walked around the wall and looked at you it would be your fault, not the toilet's. Thankfully I did not need to use the toilet; I just wanted to splash some water in my face.

I turned on the faucet and gazed at the mirror; my hair looked like a mess and the black circles were prominent underneath my eyes. I groaned and put my hands under the water before running them through my hair. I'd spent the last half hour flirting with Kendall and only when I found myself touching his arm did I realise what I was doing.  
I know what you are thinking, not too long ago I was contemplating on jumping off a rooftop and then when Camille petulantly asks us to go fetch her boyfriend I agree without too much hesitation, and then we go to this party and I start drinking and I start flirting with someone equally depressed, but c'mon! Give me a freaking break! I hadn't been around people of my age in years, well excluding some of the nurses. And I wasn't the only one to do the flirting; it takes two to tango as they say. Have you got any idea what it feels like to be flirted by someone after almost six years? No? Then shut the fuck up!

When I came back, Camille was standing there in tears and the rest of the party had cleared a little space around us. Someone had told her that Steve had been and gone, and he'd gone with somebody, somebody that wasn't Camille. Somebody that he'd met at the party. Camille wanted us all to go to the girl's house and Kendall was trying to persuade her that it wasn't a good idea.

"No, no it's okay," Camille said calmly through her tears "I know her, this must be some kind of misunderstanding. She probably didn't know about me and Steve."  
"What if she did know?" Kendall said and Camille's face hardened.  
"Well, that won't do, because you see, that's a bitch move; you don't go home with your friend's boyfriend. So if she pulled the bitch move, then she's a bitch, and in that case, I couldn't let it go, could I?"

"What does that mean?"  
"I wouldn't kill her. I'm not that bad," she chuckled then and I looked at Logan who seemed to be deep in thought "But I would hurt her. Maybe cut her a little."

"Do you even listen to what you're saying?" I asked and she whirled around at me.  
"You stay out of my business," she said each word dripping venom. I crossed my arms and looked at her down my nose; it was a good thing that I was taller.  
"Or else what? You'll cut me too?" I asked sarcastically. Camille entered my personal space glaring at me.  
"Well I might have to consider it," she said menacingly but to my ears, it sounded funny. I knew that she would never go through with it.  
"Ooh, I'm so scared," I shot back and Camille's eyes turned in two slits "I'd love to see you trying," I riled her on.  
"When I'm done with you, you'll have a bed in your sister's room in the hospital," she said and I couldn't help but flinch a little. Camille saw that and smiled "Oh yeah, I can do so many things to you with a knife. Then you'll end up a vegetable, like your dear sister. Tell me does it hurt when you talk and she doesn't answer back?"

And then Logan grabbed her and dragged her into the street.

_Camille_

I don't know why I said that stuff to Jo; I don't know why I say half the things I say. I knew that I'd overstepped the mark, but I couldn't stop myself. I get angry, and when it starts it's like being sick; I don't care who I hurt, I just puke and puke over someone and I can't stop until I'm empty. I'm glad that Logan pulled me out, I needed stopping. I needed stopping a lot. What I didn't appreciate was the earful that I got.

Logan went spare at me. He told me I was a bitch, and an idiot. He asked me what Jo had ever done to me. And I wanted to answer, I did, but I bit on my tongue and lowered my head and listened to him. Is it bad that I thought he was insanely hot while yelling at me? Yes, I knew that we were at the party looking for Steve, but that didn't mean that I couldn't notice when someone else was hot, did it? Logan was cute in general, maybe handsome, but when he was angry, he was hot, so I didn't mind all the yelling after all.

And there's another reason why I didn't answer; I didn't want them to get sick of me. I noticed that I have a tendency to make people sick of me. I managed it with most of my friends, and with Steve. And I really need that not to happen anymore, otherwise I'll be left with nobody. With Steve, I think everything was just too much; I came on too strong too quickly, and I scared him away. Like that thing I pulled in the Tate Modern...that was definitely a mistake. Because the vibe in there...

Okay, some of the stuff is all weird and intense and so on, but just because the stuff is all weird and intense, that shouldn't have meant that I went all weird and intense. As Aria would've said, that was inappropriate behaviour. I should've waited until we were alone before I started speaking. I think Aria got sick of me, too.

Also the business in the cinema, I realise now that it might not have been the right place or the right time. It was inappropriate behaviour too, once again we were out in the public, and even though we had to have that conversation at some point, I should've waited until we were back to my place. One of the points Steve made that night was that I wasn't really mature enough to be a mother and I can see now that by yelling my lungs out about having a baby halfway through Moulin Rouge I sort of proved him right.

So anyway, Logan went all ballistic on me for a while, and then he stopped. And it was like he deflated.

"Are you okay?" I asked realising the stupidity of my own question. Logan scoffed and just shook his head and I could understand enough from that.  
It was the middle of the night, and he was standing outside a party full of people he didn't know, shouting at someone else he didn't know, a couple of hours after sitting on a roof thinking about killing himself. Oh yeah and his wife hated him and held him responsible for her miscarriage. In any other situation I would have said that he'd suddenly lost the will to live.  
I walked over at him and slowly, hesitantly I wrapped my arms around his middle. It was a bold move, but I wanted to comfort him, and I think that I needed some comfort myself. Logan looked at me as if I were a person rather than an irritation and we had a Moment. A moment of Shared Understanding. But then we were interrupted, and the Moment passed.

_Kendall_

I want to tell you a few things about my old band. I guess that's because I'd started to think about these guys as my new one. There were four of us and we were called The Rush, catchy huh? We started out being called, Four 4 one, but it reminded me of the three Musketeers, so we changed it. Me and Carlos started the band when we were in high school, after my dreams were crashed because of number eleven, and we were like brothers. And Wayne was the drummer, and Dak was the bassist, and...shit, you could care less, right? All you need to know is this; we had something that no one else ever had. Maybe some people used to have it; people like the Who. But no one I've ever seen had it.

I wish you'd come to our shows, or that there was a way for me to make it like you were there, but sadly you'll have to take my word for it; in our good nights we could suck people up and spit 'em out twenty miles away. I still like our albums, but it was the shows that I remember, it was the shows that people still talked about; some bands just go out and play their songs, maybe in a different tempo a different pitch, we though, we found a way of doing something else; we would speed 'em up and slow them down, and we'd play covers of songs that we loved and that we knew our audience would love and then our shows came to mean something to people, in a way that shows don't anymore.

When The Rush performed live, instead of applause and whistles there were tears and teeth grinding, there were shivers and speaking in tongues. It might sound cheesy but it's how I felt; like we saved souls. If you love rock'n'roll, all of it from Elvis up to White Stripes, then I'm sure you'd want to quit your job and became a roadie with us. Those shows were my reason of living, and I don't mean it figuratively.

I wish I was deluding myself. Really, it would help. But that's not the case. We used to have this message boards, the one that fans think we never read, and I did red them every now and again. And I could tell that people felt the same way we did. And I looked at other people's boards too, and they had fans, fans that loved them. But I could tell from reading the other boards that our guys walked out of our shows feeling something special. I just guess there were enough of them. Anyway...

Jo felt faint after Camille cut loose on her, and I for one cannot blame her. I think she took it rather well; if it were me then Camille wouldn't be able to do much talking afterwards. But Jo was calm; she just had a little headache as she told me. So I took her outside on a little roof terrace that looked like it never got the sun at any time of the day or year. There were a couple of people sitting at the picnic table, but when they saw that Jo wasn't feeling too good they got up and went back inside.  
"Are you okay?" I asked and she just shook her head "Do you want some water? I could go..."  
"Don't leave," she said in a throaty voice and I nodded even though she wasn't looking at me.

"Okay," I said and reached for her hand; she didn't pull away. We were sitting in silence when we both heard like this hissing noise, coming from the shadows next to the grill in the far corner. We eventually figured out that there was a guy back there. He was not much younger than me; he had longish hair and a round face with sideburns that reached his jaw, hunkered down in the dark, trying to attract our attention.

"Excuse me," he whispered as loudly as he dared.  
"Come out here and talk to us."  
"I don't wanna come out into the light."  
"Why not?" Jo asked.

"Because I could die," he said and I hooked an eyebrow.  
"Really?" I leered and he nodded.  
"A loony might try to kill me."  
"There's only Jo and me out here," I said looking at the woman next to me.  
"This loony is everywhere," he said fearfully.  
"He's talking about Camille?" Jo whispered in my ear.  
"I guess so," I whispered back and then louder "Everywhere? Like God?" when he didn't respond, I sighed. I got up and walked to the other side of the terrace, and crouched down next to him "How can I help you?"  
"You American?"  
"Yes."  
"Oh, howdy pardner," now if I tell you that, that amused him, I don't think that I have to say anything else about him, right? "Listen can you check the party, see if the nutter is gone?"

"What does he look like?" I played dumb.  
"Oh, she's a she. I know, I know but she's scary as shit. A mate saw her first and told me to hide here until she'd gone. She's American like you...I went out with her once. Just once, but I stopped because she's off her head..."  
This was perfect; he was hiding from Camille after all.

"You're Steve, aren't you?"  
"How did you know that?"

"I'm a friend of Camille's."  
Oh man, I wish you could have seen the look on the poor bastard's face! He literally changed a million colours! He scrambled to his feet and started looking for ways to escape over the back wall. I blocked his way, towering over him.  
"Shit," he muttered "Fuck, I'm sorry. Shit! Will you help me climb over?"  
"No," I said shaking my head "I want you to come and talk to her. She's had like...a really shitty evening and a little chat might calm her down."

Steve laughed a hollow laugh. A laugh of a desperate man that was well aware that when it came to calming Camille down, a dozen elephant tranquilizers would be much more helpful than a little chat.  
"You know I haven't had sex since that night we went out, don't you?" Okay, too much information.  
"No Steve! I didn't know that," I said making a disgusted face "How would I know that?"  
"I've been too scared..." he said pitifully shifting his weight from one foot to the other "I can't make that mistake again. I can't have another woman shouting at me in the cinema. I don't mind you know, not having sex again. I'm twenty three...by the time you reach sixty you don't feel like doing it much, do you? Well we're only talking for like forty years, no biggie. Women are fucking maniacs man."  
"Dude, you don't want to think like that. C'mon, you just had some bad luck."

I said this because I knew it was the right thing to say, not because my experience told me otherwise; women were not maniacs, just the ones that I'd slept with. And the one that Steve slept with.

"Listen, if you came outside and had a little chat, what's the worst that could happen?"  
"She's already tried to kill me twice, and she had me arrested once. I'm banned from three pubs, two galleries and a museum, and I have an official warning..."  
"Okay, okay, I see what you're saying, the worst that could happen is, you die a painful and violent death," I said and Steve let out a small yelp. I refrained the urge to roll my eyes "But it won't happen, okay Steve? We'll be there." I hadn't see Jo approaching us so the sound of her voice startled me a little.

"I would try to kill you, if I were Camille," she said in a low threatening tone "And I would've done a much better job at succeeding." I was stunned by the harshness in her voice.  
"Who the fuck's this now?" Steve demanded.

"I'm Jo," she said "Why should you get away with it?"  
"Get away with what? I didn't do anything!" Steve yelled into her face. I lightly pushed him back and he glared at me.

"I thought you said you'd sex with her," Jo said still sounding angry.

"Well, we had sex that once. But I didn't know she was a fucking maniac back then."  
"So, once you found out that the poor girl is confused and vulnerable, you decided to run away?" I felt like laughing; Jo was defending Camille even after all those things that Camille said.

"I had to run away, she was chasing me! With a knife, half the time."  
"And why was she chasing you?"  
"Because she's crazy! Why am I explaining myself to you? How is it any of your business?"

"I don't like to see people upset."  
"What about me? I'm upset! My fucking life is in a shambles!"  
Now see, that wasn't the right move for Steve. He'd picked the wrong line to through to us. You don't go talking about your life being a mess, when within any of our crowd, the Topper's House Four. We were, by definition, the Kings and Queens of Shambles. Big freaking whoop, Steve was about to give up on sex, we had given up on living.

"You have to talk to her," Jo insisted.  
"Fuck off," Steve spat and I was about to do something but Jo bit me to the punch, literally. She shocked him on the gut hard as she could.

I can't tell you how many times I'd watched Carlos pop someone at a party or after a show. And he'd probably say the same thing about me, although in my memory, I was the Man of Peace...with the occasional lapse into violence. And okay, Jo was like this, little young thing, but watching her take a swing really brought it all back home.

Here's the thing with Jo; she had a lot more guts than I had. She's stuck around to find out what it would feel like, never to live the life she'd planned for herself. I don't know what that life was like, but everyone has dreams. And then someone had put her sister in the hospital, her father gave up on them, and Jo spent eight years waiting around for something to happen. But nothing did. There was a lot of feeling in that punch.

_Jo_

Jett was my boyfriend of two years when the car crash happened. I was so emotionally distraught but I didn't shut him out. On the contrary I reached out for him. I needed his consolation; I needed to know that I was not alone. Jett had said time and again that he loved me. That he was in love with me. That we would be together forever that he wanted to grow old with me.

I was fifteen when we started dating; he was the class' president, the football's team Captain. He was good looking and charming, he was the first guy that showed any kind of interest in me. I had a crash on him since middle school. You can easily suspect how excited I was when he asked for my number. He called as soon as the bell for the last period rang. My dad wasn't so excited; ever since he lost my mom, he had become much more strict. He'd clamed up to himself and didn't talk to anyone. Alex was ecstatic; she helped me sneak out, dad forbade me from going on the date, but Alex would have no one of that.  
As the years rolled by Jett managed to charm my father, like he'd done with the rest of the world. I fell for him, fast and hard. I didn't care what anyone said, I didn't care that my father thought I was too young; I loved him, I knew it in my heart. Only him, forever him. It wasn't too hard for Jett to make me agree on taking our relationship on the next level. Sure I had my reservations; sex out of the wedlock was frowned upon by the Church. But as I've said too many times already, I don't know whether I believed in God or not, whether I cared about the Church or not. Jett knew that and he played on it. And I gave in. At first I was afraid that he would leave me afterwards. I trusted Jett but I never thought that I was good enough for him. When he didn't it only served to make me fall harder for him.

Jett said that after Alexis' accident I became too clingy. That I smothered him. That I scared him. He said he couldn't do this, he was too young to be in such a serious relationship. I didn't think I'd ever get over it. I nearly did away with myself then- I certainly consider it. My mom was gone, and Alex was in a comma, Jett had left me...the only thing I still had was my father. I couldn't do this to him.

Then one day my best friend, Mercedes, came to the hospital. Mercedes hated hospitals so I didn't take it personally that she hadn't come to visit Alex yet. She looked nervous and she twisted the hem of her t-shirt between her fingers, she avoided to look me in the eye. I remember asking her what was wrong, if something had happened at school. She just shook her head. I stood up and went near her, touching her shoulder; I told her that she could tell me anything and she said that she didn't know how to say what she needed to say. It's only me, I said, just talk to me. And she did. She told me that she saw Jett with another girl, she told me that they looked cosy, intimate. I said that she was mistaken, that it was too soon for him to have moved on. Mercedes shook her head. She gave me a sad smile and she said that she'd asked around, Jett was seeing this girl before he broke things off with me.

I forgave him eventually. Years after, when the pain from what he did to me was numb. I don't like holding grudges. But what Jett had done to me hurt, it hurt so much. It was one of the reasons why I hadn't tried to find another boyfriend, it was one of the reasons that I hadn't flirted with anyone again, until the night in the party.

I had never hit anyone before...okay, yeah I hit Alex when we were younger but we were kids, you can't hold that against me. I'd often wanted to punch someone before but I never did. That night was different. I was in limbo, somewhere between living and dying, and it felt as if it didn't matter what I did until I went back to the top of Topper's House again.

Steve doubled over, more the from shock I think, I doubt that I hurt him so much, and then knelt on all fours covering his head with his hands.

"I'm sorry," Steve said.

"For what?" Kendall asked his eyes trained on me.  
"I'm not sure...whatever."  
"I had a boyfriend like you once," I said darkly.  
"I'm sorry," Steve said again.  
"It hurts," I muttered and I felt Kendall's hand on my back.  
"I can see that now," Steve said his hand pressing on his abdomen.

"Can you?"  
"I think so."  
"You can't see anything from down there," Kendall told him "Get up," he sort of ordered.

"I don't really want to get punched again."  
"Relax, I'm done hitting you," I said rolling my eyes. Kendall chuckled.  
"Is it fair to say that you're not the bravest man in the world?" he asked.

"There are lots of different ways of showing courage," Steve said "If what you're saying is that I don't set much store by physical bravery...then yes, that's fair. It's overrated, I think."

"Well you know what Steve?" Kendall said grinning at him goofily, making me smile "I happen to think that you are very brave to admit that you're scared of Jo over here..." he said kind of ironically and I raised an eyebrow.  
"You wanna taste one of those?" I asked raising my fist. Kendall's eyes shined in alarm.  
"No I'm good," he said quickly "Tell him that you won't hit him again."  
"I already did!" I snapped and Steve jumped a little where he was seated "Oh god," I mumbled. Eventually Kendall managed to coax him on his feet. It was a strange feeling, I should say. Watching a man do something because he was scared of me.

"Not much of a life, hiding underneath people's grills, is it?" Kendall asked.  
"No, but I don't really see the alternative."  
"How about talking to Camille?"  
"Oh, no! I'd rather get punched again."  
"Don't be ridiculous."  
"Running seems like a solid choice."  
"Running?" Kendall frowned.  
"Yeah, off to Manchester, I have family there."

"Listen, I know that she's scary, and that's exactly why you should talk to her. I told you that we'll be there. We can, you know, mediate. Wouldn't you rather do that than move cities?"

"Not really," Steve whispered and Kendall groaned "Fine, fine, what should I say to her?"  
"How the hell should I know?" Kendall exclaimed.  
"Well you want me to go talk to her, you gotta help me figure out what to say."  
"C'mon the sooner you give in, the sooner we get out of here," I told Kendall. He looked at me for a second and he licked his lips.  
"I know for a fact that she'd marry you if you asked her."  
"Ah, no, you see that's just..." Steve stammered turning red.  
"Relax, dude, I was just kidding. Lighten up!"  
"This is are dark times, lighting up is not an option."  
"Dark times indeed, what with Camille and going to Manchester and living under a grill and the Twin Towers and everything," Kendall said and I chuckled. But I don't think that Steve got it because he said seriously,  
"Yeah," Kendall shook his head.  
"Okay, so what can you tell her that's going to get you out of this fucking mess?" Steve came up blank. Kendall slapped his forehead and gave him some lines that could work if we were in a soap in telly.

_Logan_

Sooner than later I came to the realization that the whole Camille and Steve thing was ludicrous, it was a waste of time, and energy, a banal little sideshow; but it absorbed us, it got us off the roof and even as I was listening to his preposterous speech I could see its value.

"Hi Camille," said Steve when he was shoved out of the party and on to the street. Camille slowly pulled away from me, she was still hugging me, and twirled around to face him, arms crossed over her chest.  
He was trying to sound cheery and friendly and casual, as if he'd been hoping to bump into Camille at some point during the evening. But he wasn't doing such a good job; cheeriness is hard to convey when you are too scared to make eye contact.

"Why wouldn't you talk to me?" Camille said her voice demanding.  
"Yeah...right...I knew you'd want to know that. And I've been thinking about it, very hard actually, and very much because you know...I'm not happy about it. It's weak. It's..."  
"Don't overdo it, man," said Kendall. This was a staged speech and we all knew it.  
"No right, so...First of all I have to say sorry, and that it won't happen again. And second, I find you attractive, and funny, and inspirational..." Kendall coughed and made a motion with his hand "And well, it's not me, it's you," Steve said and Camille gasped, he winced "Sorry! Sorry, I mean it's me not you!" At that point, just as he was trying to remember his lines, he caught my eye.  
"Hey, you look like that wanker...the one that slept with the teenager."

"It's him," Camille said taking a stance in front of me as if to block me from Steve.  
"How the fuck do you know him?"  
"It's a long story," I said.

"We were both just up on the roof of Topper's House. We were about to throw ourselves off," Camille said just like that. In a mare minute she'd managed to explain the last four hours. Of course she left out the salient points.

Steve swallowed the information, slowly; you could see the slow march to his brain. Steve, I'm sure had many attractive aspects in his personality, quickness of intelligence was not one of them.  
"Because of the girl you shagged? And your wife throwing you out?"  
"Why don't you ask Camille why she was going to jump?" Jo said glaring at him and Steve cowered a little "Isn't that more relevant?"  
"Shut up, that's private," Camille said and Jo scoffed.  
"Oh, and Logan's reason isn't, right?"  
"No...not anymore. Everyone knows about it."  
"Steve, that's not what we came out here to talk about," Kendall said quietly.

"No, right sorry...I was a bit distracted, what with him being here," he said pointing at me.  
"Do you want me to leave?" I asked.

"No," Camille said and turned around to look at me "I want you here," she said and I gave her a nod.  
"I wouldn't have thought you'd be his type," Steve said "Too old. Plus he's a prick," he chuckled and then looked around as if he expected us to do the same "Oh I see it's like that, is it?" he asked.  
And suddenly it was. It was exactly like that. We were more serious than him, in every way. I saw Kendall glaring at Steve, his hands curled up in fists. I saw Jo setting her jaw. And when I looked at Camille I knew that she saw it too.  
"You're just a sad little boy," she said "An asshole. None of this has anything to do with you," she marched close to him and entered his personal space "Fuck off, out of my sight," she said. I saw her hand rising and I flinched way before her hand came in contact with his cheek. Steve's head shot the other way, and that was the last we saw of him.

_Camille_

When you are sad- like really sad, Topper's House sad- you only want to be around people that can understand how you feel. I didn't know this until that night, but I suddenly realized it just by looking at Steve's face.

There was nothing in it. It was just a face of a twenty-three year old boy who'd never done or thought anything in his life. It was the eyes that gave him away; when he made that stupid joke about Logan and expected us to laugh, the eyes were completely lost in the joke, and there was nothing else left of them. When we joked, when we laughed, the fear and sadness was still shining through the mirth. There was something that stopped us from giving ourselves completely in the moment. You can say that suicide is wrong, that none of us had enough reasons to do it. You can say that it was the coward's way out. But you cannot say that we didn't feel it, because we all did, and that was more important than everything. Steve would never know what that was like unless he crossed the line too.

Because that's what the four of us had done- we'd crossed a line. We hadn't done anything bad, but we'd make some decisions that separated us from the other people. We had nothing in common apart from where we'd ended up, on that square of concrete high up in the air, and that was the biggest thing you could possibly have in common with someone. To say that Jo and I had nothing in common because she wore jeans and I wore dresses and she listened to pop music and I preferred soundtracks from musicals, was like saying, I don't know, the only thing I've got in common with the girl is that we have the same parents. And I didn't know any of that until Steve called Logan a prick.

The other thing I worked out was that Steve could have told me anything at that moment, and it wouldn't have made any difference. I was still owed an explanation, I knew that but so what? Was it going to do any good to me? It wouldn't have made me happier. It is like scratching when you have chickenpox; you know that it won't make anything better, hell it might even leave you marks, but the itch is there and the moment you start scratching it moves and you can never properly reach it. My itch suddenly felt like it was a million miles away and nothing would be good enough to make it go away forever. I was afraid then that I'd be itchy for the rest of my life but I didn't want that. I didn't care what Kendall and Jo would think, I turned around and threw my arms around Logan once again.

"I'm sorry," I whispered my head resting on his shoulder "I'm sorry, he had no right to call you names."  
"Hey, _you_ didn't call me any names. It's not _your_ fault," he reassured me running his hand down my back.

"But of course it is! If you hadn't met me, you wouldn't have had to experience the trauma of being called a prick on New Year's Eve."  
"I get called prick a lot," Logan laughed it off. I pulled away and looked him square in the eyes.  
"Not again, not on my watch," I said seriously. Logan chuckled and gave me a lopsided smile that was quite adorable "So," I said and turned to look at the other two "now what?"

"I don't know," Kendall said shrugging.

"Maybe we should head of to your house Logan, I bet it's tasty. I bet you've got Jacuzzis and all shorts," I said mostly jokingly and nudged him a little. Logan flushed.  
"Ugh, no we can't go there. And by the way, my Jacuzzi days are long gone."  
"Well, never mind, as long as you've got a kettle..."  
"I haven't!" he said all too quickly and I narrowed my eyes a little.

"What have you got to hide?"  
"Nothing," but he said it in a funny way, embarrassed. And then I remembered something from before,  
"Who was leaving messages for you on your mobile?"  
"Nobody."  
"Is that Mr Nobody or maybe Miss Nobody?" I asked with a taunting smile.  
"Just nobody."

"Okay, so why don't you want to invite us back?"  
"Because I don't know you!" he snapped and I shook my head.  
"No, no that's not the reason. I bet there's something else...I mean you didn't know that sixteen-year old..."  
"Okay fine! Yeah, let's go to my place, why not?" he said and started down the road. And we followed.

**A/N: Some more development on the Kendall/Jo front and two hugs for Lomille...It's easier to incorporate romance in the story than I initially thought. **


	5. Until the Dawn

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the series, not the group, and definitely not Nick Hornby's book; I just based the story on it. **

**A/N: I struggled with this Chapter, but I think I know what the problem was...Anyway, thanks again to everyone that has reviewed this story, and to everyone that has favoured it and put it on alert. **

Until the Dawn

_Kendall_

I know that I had my bonding moment with Jo, when she punched Steve, but back then I was under the assumption that if we all made it by dawn then my new band would split due to different tastes in music. Dawn would mean that we'd made it through the night, that there was new hope...And no offense meant, but I didn't feel like being seen with these people especially with...some of them. But dawn and breakfast time was still far away so it felt to me like I had no real choice but to follow them back to Logan's place. Otherwise I'd been rude and unfriendly...plus I didn't trust myself to be alone just yet.

Logan lived a couple of blocks away from Downing Street, not exactly the kind of neighbourhood you'd choose if you'd fallen on hard times, as Logan supposedly did. He paid the cab fare, and we followed him up to the front steps of his house. I don't know if it was all his, because I could see another front-door bell, but I sure as hell could not afford to live there.

Before he put his key in the lock, he paused and turned around. He rubbed his hands awkwardly and looked up to me first and then the girls.  
"Listen," he started but didn't say anything else. After a few seconds Camille cocked her head on the side.  
"I don't hear anything," she turned questioningly to Jo "Do you?" she questioned. Jo shook her head and peered at Logan.  
"It's just..." Logan shut up and took a deep breath "I need to tell you that..."  
"C'mon, spit it out," Camille pressed. Logan snapped his mouth shut and his gaze fell to his shoes.  
"It's just very late...so be respectful of the neighbours."  
"Is that all?" I asked knowing that he was stalling.

"No," he admitted and drew a deep breath "There will be someone else in there..."  
"In your flat?" Camille cut him off. Logan just nodded "Who?"

Logan didn't respond. He shook his head and turned to the lock again. He opened the door to his flat and ushered us in ahead of him; so we saw the guy sitting on the sofa a moment before he did. He wasn't older than Logan, maybe even a year younger, and damn the dude was pretty; he had brown hair that fell on his forehead, a pair of hazel eyes, and tanned skin. He was wearing a white button up, and a pair of black slacks. Next to him was carefully folded a black jacket. He stared at us and then at Logan.

"Where have you been?" he was trying to keep it light, but the look on his face was serious.

"Just out," Logan said offhandedly but I could see the panic in his eyes "Met some..." he gestured at us.  
"Met some?" the guy demanded his eyes running over the three of us.  
"You know," Logan shrugged "People."  
"And that's why you left in the middle of the evening?" he asked clenching his fists.  
"No...I didn't know that..." Logan cleared his throat "I didn't know I'd run into this crowd when I left..."  
"When you left where?" Camille asked and Logan's mouth snapped a couple of times but no words came out "Is this your boyfriend?" she asked and his eyes turned wide like saucers.  
"What? No!" he exclaimed quickly. The guy scoffed.  
"Don't sound that offended, I'm way out of your league," he said.  
"James," Logan groaned.  
"It's the truth."  
"Who is he then?" Camille asked eyeing James. Logan sighed.  
"This is James, James Diamond," he introduced "He's my roommate..."  
"Am I only that?" James inquired and Logan momentarily glared at him.  
"James is my best friend, and we were out before..." Logan shut up.  
"Before?" James questioned.  
"You were out?" Camille asked surprised "Like in a party?" she continued and Logan just looked at her "And James was there with you?"

"Yeah I was," James said. Camille turned her eyes on him, gave him a once over and looked back at Logan.  
"And you just left him there?"

"That he did," James answered and there was an angry undertone in his voice. He stood up and walked close to Logan, and I had the impression that the shorter guy, that's Logan by the way, wanted to step back but he didn't. I saw Camille narrowing her eyes a little.  
"Hey, do I know you from somewhere?" she asked and we all looked at James. He offered her an effortless grin.  
"You might, I'm an actor."  
"Oh right!" Camille clapped her hands "You're the new Colgate guy!" she said excitedly "Awaken the senses! Discover an icy burst of wintergreen flavour for long-lasting cooling all while polishing away surface stains for a refreshingly whiter smile!" she quoted. James chuckled.  
"That's our catch phrase..."  
"I know! It's also your only line...I think you could do so much better! I mean you're a natural," Logan rolled his eyes as he looked at his best friend's back; James was grinning almost maniacally. Something told me that the last thing the pretty dude needed was an ego boost "I can definitely see you in a block-buster movie or maybe in a leading role in some series...oh! Maybe a series like ER, you'd be a great doctor!" At this Logan chocked and started coughing. James turned around and eyed his friend suspiciously. Logan brought his hand to his mouth and cleared his throat.  
"So, ready to answer my questions?" James asked. Logan shook his head "You know Logan, when I..."  
"James," Logan's voice was barely above a whisper. James set his jaw and crossed his arms "Can we please talk about this later? In private?"

He paused, and gestured around the room again at the three staring faces. I think I can speak for everyone when I say that, as a rule, potential suicides tend to be pretty self-absorbed; those last few days it's all pretty much about me, me, me. So when the option to witness a private conversation like this arose we were gulping this shit down because a) it was not about us and b) because it was not a conversation likely to depress the hell out of us. It was, for the moment, just a fight between two best friends, and it was taking us out of ourselves.

"And when will we be in private?"  
"Soon..." Logan reassured him "But not immediately."  
"Right...I think you should call Kelly and Gustavo," he said and Logan pulled a face.  
"Yeah I know, but I can't do that now, tomorrow."  
"Who are Kelly and Gustavo?" Camille inquired "The people you were having dinner with?"  
"Yes."  
"What did you tell them?"  
"He told them he was going to the toilet," James said in an exasperated tone.  
Camille burst out laughing. Logan glared at her, replayed in his head the lame excuse he'd used, and then smirked looking at his shoes. It was a weirdly familiar moment. You know like when the teacher is giving you an earful about a prank that you pulled, while a pal watches and tries not to laugh? And you try not to catch his eye because you know that the moment you do you'll start laughing too? Well that's what it was like.

"So you think this is funny?" James demanded. I could almost hear the alarm bells in Logan's head.

"Funny? This?" he said his voice squeaky "No, no, no! I know that it isn't. Not in any way. I'm sorry, I really am," he muttered. James pressed his lips in a thin line and then clapped him on the back.  
"It's okay," he said. Logan's head snapped up and looked questioningly at the taller man. James gave a little shake of his head and then his eyes looked around the room pointedly. Logan sighed.  
"We need a drink," he declared "Would you mind if they stayed for one?"

_Logan _

It sounds terrible, but up to the point that I put the key in the lock I had totally forgotten all about James and the dinner party. I could say that I had more important staff in my mind, you could say that I was just a selfish bastard, but whatever the reason James was the last thing in my mind that night. And that was of course not fair to him.

James Diamond was my best friend. We grew up next door to each other in Texas. He took care of my bullies; I took care of his slipping grades. People thought that we were never really friends; that we just used each other but that's not the case. Both coming from broken homes, with more than enough self-esteem issues to fill a town, we found a kinder spirit in each other. We both loved music and football. James was loud passionate, and stubborn and crazy, I was quite, level-headed, indecisive and quite easy to be manipulated; in more than one ways we balanced each other down.  
When I accepted the offer to move to London, James packed his things up and stated he was coming with. Peggy didn't like that, I was secretly ecstatic. She never liked the close relationship I had with James, more than once she'd admitted that she thought I cared more about him and his opinion than I did for her. Of course I couldn't tell her that she was right, I couldn't tell her that James was the one constant in my life, the one person that had never let me down, she wouldn't understand. She'd think I didn't love her. So I never told her. After the Hanna incident, when Peggy didn't want anything to do with me, when the hospital cut any liaisons that had with me, and after I spent three months in prison, James took me in. He was by my side through everything.

I know what you're wondering about; where was James in my pros and cons list? Did I even care about him? Of course I did! I had spent many sleepless nights thinking how all of this would affect him, how much he'd hate me afterwards, how much he'd blame himself for being unable to stop me. My only excuse is that I truly believed he'd be better off without me. James' career had start taking off and any kind of association with me would be a drawback. James meant too much to me to keep him down. I was selfish but not that much. I knew that if asked James would pick me over his career in a heartbeat (he didn't really need the money, what with two parents making millions of dollars a year and him being their only heir); I couldn't let him do that.

My immediate problem was how to explain my connection with Jo, Kendall, and Camille. James knew that I had no friends other than him and I knew that he wouldn't be able to handle the truth. It was so hard to think of a convincing lie; what could we be to one another? He knew that they weren't my colleagues, I mean come on even if they could pass for doctors James knew that none of my ex-colleagues were on speaking terms with me, he knew that I wasn't a club person so we are ruling out the possibility that they were fellow clubbers, one look at Camille and you knew that there was no way she was a poetry enthusiast so I couldn't use that...And anyway, even if I could say one of these things with a straight face, even if James did believe me, I would still find it hard to explain the apparent desperation of my desire to see them.

So I decided simply to carry on as if there was nothing to explain.  
"James, this is Kendall, Jo, and Camille. Camille..."  
"Yeah yeah, we got it, this is James," Camille cut me off and smiled widely at James "Pleased to meet you," she said extending her hand. I hooked an eyebrow; since when was Camille polite and proper? Not that I knew her for long or anything...

"It's always nice to meet beautiful ladies," James said turning on the known 'Diamond charm'. He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles; Camille started giggling. He did the same with Jo and when she blushed I saw Kendall rolling his eyes.  
"You gonna kiss my hand too?" he asked sarcastically. James turned to me,  
"I can see what drew you to him; you both believe you're funny when you really aren't."  
"It's called sarcasm, James," I said.

"Lovely as it is to meet you, Camille, and Jo," he said offering both of them a smile "You still haven't told me who they are," he said rounding at me.  
"I feel all left out," Kendall commented dryly and I saw Jo nudging him on the ribs. James didn't rise to the bait.  
"How do you know these people Loges? And when did you meet them?"  
"It's a long story," I said rubbing the back of my neck.  
"Good, we have lots of time."  
"Ugh...well Camille I met..." I trailed off and saw Camille smiling deviously, was she going to give me up? "I met her first...a-a long time ago..."  
"How come I don't know her?" James asked.  
"I don't know, it's weird, Logan is always talking about you," Camille said. James squinted; he looked at me, then at Camille, then back at me. I saw a flicker in his eyes, but then he shook his head and pinned in mine again.  
"Jo and Kendall?" he asked.  
"Ugh...Well, Jo's sister is in the hospital, she used to be my patient...and Kendall...he's her boyfriend," I said and Jo's eyes widened. James turned around just as Kendall put his arm around her waist. James inspected them for a long second until he was satisfied.  
"Where were you all night?"  
"At a party," Kendall said easily.  
"Where?" James asked again.  
"In Shoreditch," Camille said.  
"Whose party was it?"  
"Does it even matter? It sucked anyway," she said shrugging.  
"Dude, you went to a party without me?" James whined and I tried to look simultaneously helpless and apologetic "That's so not cool!"  
"Sorry, next time I'll take you with," I promised and Camille's eyebrows reached her hairline.  
"Whatever," James muttered pouting.  
"Oh c'mon James! You heard Camille, the party sucked," I hated it so much when James started sulking.  
"Yeah but I bet that there was at least one hot girl, and I would've liked to meet her Logan but you kept me away! She could've been my soul mate," he said with a serious face and a low voice.  
"James," I pinched at the bridge of my nose and looked at him "There were plenty of hot girls at the dinner party. In fact I remember you talking not with one but two of them before I left," I said. James crossed his arms and turned his head so he couldn't see me. Typical.  
"So there were lots of hot girls huh?" Camille asked and there was something in her voice that I could not pinpoint "And you left all of them to...come find us? That was...nice of you."  
"I couldn't leave you hanging," I said and frowned; this conversation made no sense to me.

"I'm off to bed," James said snappily. He looked at me expectantly but I didn't try to stop him, I wanted him to go to bed. I knew that at some point I had to tell him what I almost did, but then and there it wasn't the right time. James huffed and walked out the living room, down the hallway and into his room, banging the door behind him.  
"So that was James," Kendall said bouncing on the balls of his feet.

_Jo_

I didn't even manage to get in the toilet. Instead I doubled over just by the door and retched. It was such a good thing that they didn't have a rug outside the bathroom; that would've been a terribly difficult stain to get rid of. There were two reasons why I was unable to hold my liquor; firstly I was not used to drinking and secondly, I hadn't had a thing to eat for more than a day. I was too nervous on New Year's Eve to eat anything, and there didn't seem to be a lot of point anyway. I mean, food is fuel right? It is what keeps us going. I didn't want to keep going so I didn't need any fuel. Jumping off Topper's House with a full stomach would have seemed wasteful, like selling a car with a full tank of petrol. I was dizzy long before the whisky made it down my throat, because of the wine at the party, and after I'd had a couple the room started spinning round, and round, and round.

We were quite after James left. It's not like we really had anything to talk about, we were strangers after all and I think that as we sat there in the silence that started sinking in all of us. Logan was silent, his eyes never leaving the dark hallway. Camille kept hers trained on him, like a hawk does with its prey. I nursed my drink and responded whenever Kendall tried to start a conversation, but after a little while I stopped.  
"I liked your roommate," Camille said out of the blue. Kendall was currently in the middle of his sentence but stopped and looked at Logan waiting for an answer.  
"Everyone likes James," Logan said with a warm smile on his face "He can be kind of a drama-queen but he's loyal to a fault and a really nice guy..."  
"Plus he's hot," Camille said and Logan's eyes flickered to her face. He toyed with his fingers and his gaze fell on his hands.  
"Yes there's that too."

Sometimes it was hard to remember that Camille was unhappy too. The rest of us, we were still shell-shocked. I had no idea how I'd ended up drinking whisky in the living room of a well-known surgeon (that did time for sleeping with a teenager,) when I'd actually left the house to kill myself. And you could tell that Kendall and Logan were confused about the evening too. But with Camille, it felt like the whole thing on the roof was to her just a minor accident, something that she was ready to forget about. When she was talking, there was no way to figure out what made her climb those stairs, get out in the terrace, and march to the ledge. Her eyes were twinkling, and she was so full of energy that you could say she was having fun. We weren't having fun, we weren't killing ourselves, but we weren't having fun either. We'd come too close to jumping. And yet Camille had come closest of all of us to going over. Kendall had just walked up the staircase and out the door, Logan sat with his feet dangling over the edge, but hadn't actually gone through with it. I didn't even make it to the other side of the fence. But if Logan hadn't tackled her on the ground, Camille would've done it, I'm sure of that.

"Let's play a game," Camille said. Logan's look turned ludicrous.

"No."  
"Oh c'mon! It will be fun!" Camille insisted.  
"No."  
"Logan," she groaned and turned to Kendall "Come on; tell him that it will be fun, Kendall!"

"I'm not really in the mood myself Camille," Kendall said in a low voice. Camille huffed and pinned Logan with her eyes.  
"Miserable bastard," she muttered through gritted teeth.  
"Well yeah," Logan said slowly "Exactly, as you said."  
"What did I say?" Camille questioned.  
"You accused me of being a miserable bastard. I was merely pointing out that you were right; in this particular stage of my life, for all intense and purposes, I am a very miserable bastard...I thought you'd have worked this out by now."  
"What, still?" Logan chuckled bitterly.  
"Yeah, still. Even after all the fun adventures we had tonight. What exactly do you think that changed in the last couple of hours? Am I still the same guy that went to prison, slept with a sixteen year old, lost his medical license, and is the main reason why his unborn child will never came to be? I dare say that I am. And even during our fun time out I was, called a prick, not once but twice..."  
"I thought we'd cheered each other up," Camille said her face falling. Logan leaned on his knees with his elbows.  
"Really? Do you honestly believe that?"  
"Yes."  
"I see...A trouble shared is a trouble halved, huh? And because there are four of us, it's actually kind of quartered? That sort of thing?"  
"Well..." Camille lowered her eyes on her lap where her hands lied clasped "You've made me feel better," she said and looked at him under her lashes. Logan let a small sigh.

"Yes, well..."  
"What is that supposed to mean?"  
"Nothing," Logan said quickly "I'm glad we've made you feel better," he gave her a lopsided smile "I think that maybe, maybe your depression was more...amenable than ours. Less intractable. You're very lucky," Camille smiled a little "But, unfortunately, Kendall still has cancer, Jo's sister is still lying in a hospital bed due to comma and my life is still a complete and utter fucking shambles. To be honest with you Camille, I don't see how a couple of drinks and a game of Scrambles are going to help. I mean would it help you, Kendall?"  
Kendall gave them a smile and shrugged "Nah, I guess not."  
"I wasn't thinking of Scrambles," Camille said as if that was the only problem "Scrambles takes far too long."

And then Logan said something to her in an angry voice but I couldn't hear what because I had already started gagging. So I put my hand over my mouth and I ran for the bathroom. But as I said I didn't make it.

_Kendall_

You might think that I'm a bad person for saying this but I was glad that Jo got sick all over Logan's ash-blond wooden floor. You see I was beginning to regret the whole lung-cancer scam; I wanted to come forward, own up; and owning up would have got my year off to a pretty bad start. And it already didn't look pretty what with thinking of jumping off a high building, and lying about having cancer in the first place. Anyway, I was relieved when suddenly we all crowded around Jo, because the owning up moment passed.

Truth be told, I did not feel like a dying man; I felt like a man who every now and then wanted to die, but there's a difference. A man who wants to die feels angry at the world, full of life and desperate, and bored and exhausted all at the same time; he wants to scream and fight everyone, and he wants to curl up in a ball and disappear in himself. He wants to say sorry to everyone, and he wants everyone to know how badly they've screwed him over. I can't believe that dying people feel that way, unless dying is worse than I thought...which is quite possible.

"My mouth feels funny," Jo said, her hand coming up to her forehead.

"Well, no shit, you just gagged your guts out," Camille said and Logan glared at her.  
"Let me get you a glass of water," our host said willingly but Jo shook her head violently. And then she moaned.  
"Oh, don't let me do that again," she begged and I chuckled a little but she didn't seem to mind "I don't want water; it will make my stomach worse. I want...I want a mint, I have some in my purse."  
"You didn't have a purse with you," Camille said and after a while, Jo groaned again softer this time.  
"I forgot it on the roof," she said her head rolling backwards, resting against the wall "In the corner, right by the hole Logan made in the fence. It's only got my keys and the mints I didn't carry any money..."

"It's okay, we can find you a mint," Logan said reassuringly. He was crouched by her head "James has tone of them stashed in the kitchen cupboards...Or you can brush your teeth if you want, there's always a new toothbrush, in case one of James' friends decides to spent the night," he said and something told me that Logan wasn't that crazy about James' friends spending the night.  
"Thank you," Jo said opening her eyes and giving him a smile.  
"No problem," he replied. She got to her feet and then sat down again on the floor.  
"What am I going to do? About the bag?"

It was a question for all of us, but Logan looked at me first and then we both turned to Camille for the answer. Better say, we knew the answer, but it would have to come in the form of another question and we'd both learned, over the course of the night, that Camille would be the one who was tactless enough to ask it.

"The thing is," Camille started, right on cue "Do you need it?"  
"Oh," Jo muttered, as the bag implications started to sink in.  
"You get what I mean, right?"  
"Yeah, I do..."

"If you don't know whether you'll need it, just say so. 'Cause, you know...It's a big question, and we don't want to rush you," Camille said looking up to Logan and me, and we both nodded "But if you know for sure that you won't be needing it, then probably best say so now. That would save us all a trip."  
"I wouldn't..." Jo took a deep breath "I wouldn't ask you to come with."  
"We'd want to," I said and she looked straight into my eyes "Wouldn't we?" the others agreed immediately.

"And if the problem is your keys, then you can definitely spent the night here, if you want," Logan suggested.  
"Right...I hadn't really...I thought, I don't know. I was going to put off thinking about it for a few hours."  
"Ok," I said and stood up "Fair enough, let's go back."  
"Really? You don't mind?"  
"Not at all. It would be silly to kill yourself just because you didn't have your purse," I said with what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

When we got to Topper's House, I realized that I'd left Evan's moped there the night before. Evan is my boss and I felt bad because he's not such a bad guy, and it's not like he's some fucking Rolls-Royce-drivin' cigar-smoking capitalist. He's too poor; I think he drives one of his own mopeds around. Anyway, now I could never face him again, and I wasn't particularly sorry about it; the job sucked any way.

"I left my car here too," Logan's voice broke through my thoughts.

"Let me guess, it's gone?" I asked.  
"The door was unlocked, and the keys were in the ignition," he shrugged and shook his head "It was supposed to be an act of charity..."  
Unlike my moped and Logan's car, the bag was exactly were Jo had left it, right in the corner of the roof. It wasn't until we got up there that we could see we'd made it through to dawn, just about. And it was proper dawn, with sun and blue sky, a rare think for London especially in the winter. We walked around the roof to see what we could see, and I noticed that Camille didn't want to go anywhere near the fence.  
"It's not scary anymore," Logan said, hands stuffed in his jeans' pockets.  
"Talk about yourself," Camille said and he looked at her questioningly "What have you looked over the edge? I don't even know how I managed to get up here without fainting."  
"Are you afraid of heights?" I asked chuckling and she stuck her tongue out to me.  
"Shut up!" she barked.

"I didn't mean the drop anyway," Logan said rolling his eyes. "I mean London, it looks all right, look for yourself," he said and lightly pushed her towards the fence to get a better view of the city. Camille yelped, and clenched on his arm tightly "It's okay, you won't fall," Logan's voice was soft and Camille just nodded.  
"It looks beautiful," Jo said to my right "I can't remember the last time I could see so much."

"I didn't mean that either...I mean I did, London is beautiful but what I meant is...I don't know," Logan ran a hand, the one that was free, through his hair "There were all those fireworks, and people walking around, and we were squeezed up here because there was nowhere else for us to go."  
"Yeah...Unless you'd been invited to a dinner party, like you had," I said. Logan gave a small shake of his head.  
"I didn't know anyone there...I'd been invited out of pity, they were all James' associates, his boss, his manager...I didn't belong."  
"And you feel included now?" I asked kinking an eyebrow.

"There's nothing down there to feel excluded from. It's just a big city again. Look he's on his own, she's on her own."  
"She's a freaking traffic warden," Camille said.  
"Yes and right now she's on her own, and she right now has fewer friends than even I do. But last night she was off to some party, dancing on a table, somewhere."  
"With other traffic wardens, probably," Camille commented.  
"And I wasn't with other surgeons."  
"Or perverts," Camille said with a sly smile. Jo rolled her eyes but all that Logan said was,

"No. Agreed. I was on my own."

"Apart from the other people at the party," I pointed out. Logan looked at me and opened his mouth but I stopped him "No, I do see where you are coming from. We all get it, I think...That's why New Year's Eve is such a popular night for suicides."  
"When's the next one?" Camille asked.  
"December 31st," Logan said and she momentarily let go of his arm to swat him.

"Haha, very funny. I mean the next popular night."  
"Valentine's Day," came the response from Jo. Camille bobbed her.  
"So...what? Six weeks from now? Let's give it another six weeks then," she said and we all just gaped at her "Oh c'mon, we'll probably still feel all terrible on Valentine's Day."

Six weeks seemed already, it wasn't that far away. Life could change in six weeks- unless you had a sister in comma. Or your career had gone up in fucking smoke. Or you were a national laughing stock...

"Do you know how you'll be feeling in six weeks?" Jo asked me and I looked down at her.  
"Do you?" I countered because I didn't really know how to answer. Jo looked at the horizon for a couple of seconds and then back at me. She didn't need to say anything.

"So, are we going to meet again before the six weeks is up?" Camille asked peering at us questioningly.  
"Ugh, sorry, not to be rude or anything, but...when did we become 'we'?" Logan asked "Why do we even have to meet in six weeks? Why can't we just kill ourselves wherever and whenever we feel like it?"  
"No one's stopping you," Camille said.

"No actually, you do. We all do, we are stopping each other," Logan said.  
"Until the six weeks is up, yeah," Camille agreed.  
"So, when you said, 'no one is stopping you,' you meant the opposite."  
"Look, if you go home right now, take a knife and slit your throat, what am I going to do about it?"  
"Exactly, so what's the purpose of all...this?" he said gesturing between us."  
"If we are a gang then we'll all try and live by the rules. And there's only one. Rule #1: We don't kill ourselves for six weeks. And if we're not a gang, then, you know. Whatever. Are we a gang, or not a gang?" she asked. Logan looked down on his shoes. It took him five minutes to come up with an answer.

"Not a gang."  
"Why not?"

"N offence but..." Logan clearly hoped these three words, and a wave of the hand in our general direction, would save him from having to explain himself. I was not going to let him off the hook that easily.

I hadn't felt like I was in this gang either, until that moment. And now I belonged to the gang that Logan didn't like much, and I felt real committed to it.  
"But what?" I said.

"You...you're not My Kind Of People," he said it like that. I swear. I heard the capitals as clearly as I heard the lower case.  
"Well fuck you! Like I usually hang around with assholes like you," I said. Logan's cheeks flushed.  
"Ok then, you see my point! We should all shake hands, thank one another for a most instructive evening and then go our separate ways!"  
"And die," Camille muttered.

"Possibly."  
"And that's what you want?" I asked. Logan squirmed a little but when he talked his voice was confident.  
"As a matter of fact yeah, I don't feel like I do much of living anyway so what's the point? And plus, why do you care?" he asked looking at Camille "I'd got the impression that you didn't care for anyone or anything. I thought that was your thing." Camille flushed a little, let go off his arm and started twisting a lock of hair between her fingers.

"You know those films, where there are two people fighting on top of the Empire State Building, and then one of them loses his footing and he falls of the ledge? And no matter what the bad guy has done the hero always tries to save him, so get's a hold of his shirt and he tries to pull him up but...The sleeve of his shirt tears off and he goes over and you hear him all the way down 'Aaaaagh'..."  
"So...you want to watch me plunge to my death?" Logan asked frowning. Camille sighed.  
"I'd like to know that I've made an effort, I want to show to people the torn sleeve."  
"Hmm, look at you, aren't you the trained Good Samaritan?" Logan said sarcastically but Camille was being serious.  
"It's just my own personal philosophy."

"I think maybe, we should see each other in a regular basis," Jo said quietly "All of us. No one really knows how I feel about everything...And I bet that it's the same for you guys...It will be easier, I think."  
"Oh, for Christ's sake," Logan muttered lowering his head once more. He knew he was beaten, he knew that he had to back down.

"It's only six weeks," said Camille "We'll throw you off the top ourselves on Valentine's, if it helps."

"No that won't be necessary."  
"Are you sure? Because I'd do it for you," Logan raised his eyes on her.

"I'm sure."  
"Good!" Camille grinned "So, is everyone all right with that?" I shrugged; it wasn't like I had a better plan.

"I'm not going on beyond six weeks," Jo said warningly.  
"We're not going to make you," I told her.

"As long as we know that from the start," she said and I nodded.  
"Noted."  
"Excellent! So it's a deal," Camille said cheerfully.

We shook hands. Jo picked up her purse, and we all went out for breakfast. We couldn't think of anything to say to each other, but we didn't mind much.

**A/N: James, that was my main problem. I can't right James, at least not in this story! I don't know when I'll update again, my exams start on Monday and I have A LOT of studying to do...But I think I will update in the weekend, we'll see...**


	6. News Travel Fast

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the series, not the group, and definitely not Nick Hornby's book; I just based the story on it. **

**A/N: Hey everybody, how are you doing? This chapter has a lot of Lomille, I think..I enjoyed writing it! Let's see if you'll like it as much as I do**

Chapter six

News travel fast

_Camille_

It didn't take long for the papers to find out. A couple of days maybe, which is much longer than I suspected, I thought it'd be on the first page on January's 1st. I was in my room and Dad called me downstairs and asked me what I'd been up to on New Year's Eve.

So I should probably tell you that my parents are divorced. They weren't even married that long, only five years. Mom had come on vacation here and she met Dad, he was still in University back then. They met, they talked, they fell in love. Then they decided to get married. Five years later they were convinced that they couldn't stay married any longer, so they split. Dad didn't want to take the case to the court, it wouldn't do any good to his career, so he didn't fight for custody. Hence me growing up in Connecticut.

"Wow, it has a lovely weather outside," I said and my Father sighed tapping his fingers on the counter.  
"Don't avoid the question Camille," he said.

"I'm not! I didn't do anything, not really."  
"Well," he sat back on his seat and pinned in my eyes "That isn't what the newspapers seem to think," I gulped and went for the most innocent voice I could muster,

"Newspapers?"  
"Yup, there's apparently going to be a story about you and Logan Mitchell. Do you know Logan Mitchell?" he asked raising an eyebrow. I leaned on the island with my back, next to his seat, and looked straight at the wall behind him.  
"Ugh, yeah, I kind of do...I met him at this party. It's not like I really know him or anything."  
"What the hell kind of a party is it where you meet someone like Logan Mitchell?"  
"Oh c'mon Dad, it's not like he's a murder or something," I deadpanned and my dad glared at me. I lowered my gaze and bit on my lip; fighting with my Dad wasn't the smartest move.  
"Was there...Did anything..." once I realised what he was trying to say I felt my cheeks blushing profoundly.  
"Did I sleep with him?" I asked and my Dad look like he was about to gag "Dad! You have no right asking staff like that!"  
"Well did you?"  
"What? No!" I yelled. I tried to sound repulsed, and I mean I should be right? The dude slept with a fucking sixteen-year-old! But I don't think I did a very good job, my Dad didn't looked convinced.  
I knew that it was Steve, the one that rattled us out. He phoned the press. I bet he'd tried to do so before but he never had much to go on then, when it was just me. The Camille Roberts/Logan Mitchell combo though...unresistable. How much do you think someone would pay for a story like this?

Dad pulled back the curtain to sneak a look and it was the first time that I noticed that our front yard wasn't empty; there was someone out there, holding a camera, a determined look on his face. I wanted to go out and have a go at him, but Dad wouldn't let me!  
"You don't want to do that," he said taking a hold of my arm and pulling me away from the door.  
"Oh, you have no idea how much I do!" I said fighting to get away from him.  
"No, Cami, calm down," he ordered. I glared at him, but he put his hands on my shoulders "Calm down," he repeated "You don't want them to take a mad picture of you, do you?" he asked but I refused to answer "You're only going to regret it later, and you'll look stupid; all they want you is to react. Don't give them that pleasure."

"But..."  
"No, 'buts', Cam. We have to rise above this shit. In our position is undignified to even acknowledge them."  
"In whose position Dad? I'm not in any position!"  
"Well, you are, whether you like it or not. So you'll just have to deal with it."  
"No I don't! You're the one in 'a position' as you put it..."  
"You are too Camille."  
As you can see neither was about to give up. So the conversation went like that for a while. And I knew that he was right; he's almost always that's why I can't stand him. If I weren't in a position then the papers wouldn't give two shits about me, now would they? And the more I acted like I was not in a position, the more I am in a position. Do you know what I mean? Like, if say, I just sat in my room and read, and decided to get a steady boyfriend there would be no interest. But, if I went to bed with Logan Mitchell, or threw myself off a roof, then there would be the opposite of no interest. Then there'd be interest.

When I was in the papers in the past, right after Aria...right when I came here from Connecticut, I think the feeling was I was troubled, not bad. They'd dug out my past in the States and made it public that I'd been charged with shop-lifting but that's just a phase right? It's not like I was a part of an armed robbery or anything. But this time I had the feeling that things were different. And that's when I started thinking...Yeah, yeah, kind of late but, better late than never. If it was going to be all over the papers then better Mom and Dad think that I'd slept with Logan than to know the real reason we were together. The real reason would kill them, and I'm not sure I mean this figuratively. Which would make me the last member of the family left alive, possibly, and well I wasn't ready to be left all alone. So if the papers had the wrong sources and got hold of the wrong end of the stick, it wouldn't be such a bad think. It would obviously kind of suck because then everyone in University would believe that I slept with Logan but it would be for the greater good; two alive parents. The thing was that even thought I'd started to think things through, I hadn't done that properly. Maybe if I'd given it a couple of more seconds, maybe I would have saved myself a lot of trouble. But I didn't...

"Daddy," I said in a pathetic hollow voice, looking at him under my lashes. My father's shoulders tensed and his face turned grim.  
"Oh no," he denied it shaking his head. I bit on my lip and pinned in his eyes "You better tell me everything young lady."  
"There's not much to tell really," I said my gaze falling on my slippers "I just went to this party and he was there and I had too much to drink...And then we went back to his place," well technically this wasn't a lie.  
"That's it? End of story?" he asked. And I could've stopped there. I should've...

"Well, no, that's it as in; dot, dot, dot you don't want to know the details."  
"Oh Christ," he exclaimed and gave a huge sigh.

I didn't say that we slept together but I did insinuate it. And there was no reason for me to do so! I could've said that we made out, or that he tried it on, or something like that but I wasn't quick enough. I was like, well, if it's a choice between sex and suicide, then it's better to go with sex...but those didn't have to be the only choices. But I spoke too soon, too much and then there was nothing I could do. I should've first asked Dad to find out what the story in the newspaper was, but in my mind the answer was easy; tabloids equals sex...

Dad then got straight on the phone and called his office. He told them everything that I'd told him, and then he said he was going out. He said that I was not to answer the phone or the door. And I couldn't get out or go near the window. So I went back to my room and turned my stereo on. When Dad came back I noticed that the guy in the front yard wasn't alone anymore. My Father looked ten years older when he handed me the early edition of the newspaper. The headline read "Logan Mitchell and High Court Judge's daughter in suicide pact."

So the whole sex confession bit had been a complete waste of time.

_Kendall_

That was the first time that we knew anything about Camille's background. I have to say that my reaction was that it was pretty fucking hilarious. I was in my local store buying some milk that I'd run out of, and Camille and Logan were staring at me from the counter. When I read the headline I whooped; which got me some weird looks, seeing as the headline was about a suicide pact. But I didn't care. High Court Judge? Holy shit! The girl acted like a bully from the second I met her, I would've guessed she'd grown up with her grandmother with both parents in prison or something.

But then, when I read the story, it wasn't quite so funny. I didn't know anything about Camille's twin sister, Aria. None of us did. You know Camille loves to talk but she doesn't really speak, she doesn't open up. I had no idea that Aria disappeared a few years ago, when both girls were nineteen just around the time Camille came in Britain from the Sates. The story said that Aria, back in Connecticut, had borrowed their mother's car and they found it abandoned in the side of the road near a cliff. Aria had passed her test three days before, as if that had been the point of learning to drive. They never found a body. I don't know how much that had messed up Camille, I'd say a great deal if I had to guess. And as for her father...Jesus. Parents who only produce suicidal daughters are likely to end up feeling pretty dark about the whole child-raising scene.

And then, the next day it became even less funny. There was another headline which read 'There were four of them!" and in the article underneath it there was a description of these two freaks that I eventually realised it was supposed to be Jo and me. And in the end of the article there was an appeal for further information! Jo and I had prices on our heads!

I wanted to find that asshole Steve and break his teeth; I wanted to see how he'd call the papers and talk to them afterwards. I had to give the guy a little credit though; to me, the evening consisted of four miserable people that couldn't even succeed at taking their own fucking lives, something that if I have to be honest, is not so hard to achieve. But Steve had seen something else; he'd seen that it was a story, a story that would get him a few hundred of bucks. Well yeah ok, he obviously knew who Camille's father was, but still he did put it all together.

I'm gonna be perfectly honest and I don't care whether you'll judge me or not, although I'd love you if you didn't; I got off on the story a little. It was kind of gratifying, in an ironic sort of way, reading about myself, and that makes sense if you think about it. See one of the things that brought me on the top of Topper's House was the fact that I was unable to leave my mark on the world through my music...Which I guess is another way of saying that I wanted to kill myself because I wasn't famous. Which I do realize sounds pathetic. So I was sort of enjoying myself, sitting in my flat, drinking coffee, and reading running my fingers through the strings of my guitar, taking pleasure from knowing that I was sort of famous, even though I was completely anonymous, all at the same time. And then the fucking buzzer went, and I jumped out of my skin.  
"Who is it?" I asked, the guitar still in my hand.  
"Is that Kendall?" I heard a young woman's voice. I leaned on the wall.

"I asked you a question," I said, but she completely ignored me.

"I wondered if I could have a few words with you? About the other night?"  
"Why what happened the other night?" I played dump.  
"You don't know? It's all over the headlines, Kendall," she said patronizingly  
"I don't read the papers. And how did you even get this address?"  
"I understand you were one of the people with Camille Roberts and Logan Mitchell on New Year's Eve? When they tried to kill themselves?"  
"Nope, you've got your facts wrong."  
"Which bit is wrong?"  
"All of it?"  
"I don't think so."  
"You pressed the wrong buzzer."  
"No I didn't," I felt like hitting my head on the wall; she was so persistent!

"How do you know?" I demanded trying to keep my anger in check.  
"Because you didn't deny you were Kendall, and you asked how I'd got this address."  
"Good points, still I never said that, that was my name. Or that I even know what the hell you're talking about."  
She didn't say anything. I could almost see her standing out there on the street, shaking her head at my pathetic attempts. I vowed not to say another word until she went away.

"Listen," she said "Was there a reason you came down?" I didn't say anything. She sighed "Was it like, you four looked down over London and saw the beauty of the world?" she said and I scoffed. Well we did admit that London was beautiful the following day, but that had nothing to do with why we got down "C'mon Kendall give me something that will cheer my readers," she prompted but I remained silent "Maybe one of you changed the others mind? Maybe Camille? Or Logan...Maybe he said something that gave you a reason to live for? People would want to know if he did."  
I tried to think if Logan had offered us any words of comfort she could use. He'd shared some stories about his patients, but I don't think that was very legal. And he'd called Camille stupid, but he also stopped her from jumping more than once.

"You're wasting your time, there's no story here," I told her.

"I'm going to leave a card with my numbers on it, ok? Ring me when you feel ready to talk about this."  
I nearly ran out after her. Yes I had spent the last couple of minutes in silence as she tried to get the truth out of me. But I liked being the temporary centre of her world. Shit, I liked being the temporary centre of my own, because there hadn't been too much recently, and there wasn't much there after she'd gone, either.

_Jo_

I was in the hospital, curled up on the armchair next to Alex's bed, watching tv, a cup of hot coffee in my hands. I decided to tell Alex everything that happened, it wasn't like she could judge me and I knew that even if she was up and talking she'd understand where I was coming from. I told her that we'd put off jumping for six weeks. I told her that I doubted I'd see any of them again, even though we'd exchanged phone numbers and e-mails. It's pathetic but I thought that they might see each other, but they'd keep me out of it. I was just too different. I'd had 'fun' going to parties with them, punching people, but it hadn't changed anything. I was still in the hospital, next to Alex, and I still had no life to live beyond the life I was already sick and tired of. You might think well, why isn't she angry? Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I am angry! Do I pretend I am not? Yes, yes I do. And I don't know why. I suppose that the church had something to do with it. But some days, most days, I want to scream and shout and break staff and kill people. Oh, I am angry. I'm so angry. You can be stuck with a life like this one and not be angry. My mobile rang and I picked it up peering at the screen 'Caller Unknown'. I hooked an eyebrow and pushed the device against my ear.  
"Hello?" I said. A woman with a posh accent said,  
"Is that Jo?"  
"Yeah, that's she."  
"This is the Metropolitan Police."  
"Oh..." I didn't know what I was supposed to say. I think my mind just froze momentarily; why was the police calling me?  
"We've head reports that your sister was causing trouble in the shopping centre on New Year's Eve. Shoplifting and creating a havoc in general..." I looked at Alex and even thought about it for half a second; I mean c'mon it was the police! But then I heard the giggle, and the cogs started turning in my head.  
"Who is it?" I demanded.  
"I told you ma'am, it's the Metropolitan Police."  
"Oh right, and you're officer...?"  
"Ugh...shit," she whispered.  
"Give it up Camille, I know it's you," I said and rolled my eyes.

"Damn! What gave me away?" she asked and I could almost hear the pout in her voice.  
"You giggled," I pointed out. She swore again.  
"Shit! I knew I should've used the recorded version!"  
"There's a recorded version?"  
"I have a lot of time in my hands," she countered. I knew that was true so I just sighed "Have you seen the newspapers?"  
"No, I thought it was clear that I don't look at them."  
"Too bad, we're in them. First page too."  
"Who's in them?"  
"We are! Well, by name, only Logan and I, hysterically funny huh?" she said and the anger in her voice was obvious.  
"What does it say?"  
"It says that me and Logan and two other mystery people had a suicide pact."  
"What?" I demanded loudly and a nurse that happened to pass outside the room looked at me disapprovingly "That's not true!"  
"Well, duh. It also says that I'm High Court Judge's daughter."  
"Why does it say that?"  
"Because it's true. And I'm telling you because you asked what it says..."  
"You act like a complete bully and still your father is a judge..." I mused. Camille let it slide.  
"A woman reporter came around Kendall's flat and asked him whether we came down for an inspirational reason."  
"Does tracking Steve down count as one?"  
"I doubt so."

"Hmm..."  
"Yeah well...anyway, we're going to have a crisis meeting."  
"We?"

"The four of us. Big reunion. Maybe in the place where we had breakfast."  
"Well I can't go."  
"Why not?"  
"Because of Alex."  
"Who's Alex?" Camille asked and I shut my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.  
"My sister, the one lying on a hospital bed in comma. It's visiting hours and I don't want to leave her alone."  
"But she won't..."  
"Don't say that she won't know because I swear the moment I see you I'll kick your ass," I cut her off.  
"Can't you just get away for like half an hour?"  
"Nope."  
"Okay, how about we meet in the afternoon?"  
"You do remember that I told you I work, right?"  
"Right...okay, then we'll come over."  
"What?"  
"We'll come to you, at the hospital."

"No...that's not necessary. When are you thinking of meeting up?"  
"In like two hours."  
"Oh..I don't think that I..."  
"Jo, relax, we'll come to you."  
"Please no...I mean it will be too awkward for Logan."  
"He's a big boy, he'll suck it up."

"But..."  
"No, Jo, we're coming, okay? See ya in two hours."  
And just like that the line was dead. I looked around the room; Alex's whole life looked back at me. I groaned and hid my face in the pillows of the armchair. It does drive you a little bit mad, a life like mine, I think. You have to be a little mad to want to jump off a building. You also have to be a little mad to come down. You have to be more than a little mad to decide to put up with Alex, to decide to live your life the way I did so that I'd be able to provide to her. But I wasn't really mad. No if I were I wouldn't worry about them being in her hospital room. I wouldn't worry about them judging me.

_Logan_

I suppose that it did cross my mind that my visit to Topper's House might be of interest to my friend's in the tabloid press. I was on the front page of every magazine in Britain for the past couple of months, things just about started to die out and what did I do? I decided to go fall of a high building. I mean it's like I was begging them to write about me. When Camille told Steve where we'd met, I did wonder whether he'd have the wit to sell the knowledge on. But to me Steve seemed like a completely witless individual so I dismissed the fear as soon as it appeared in my head. If I knew Camille's last name, I wouldn't be so quick to calm myself down.  
When I walked in the kitchen, barely awake, James was already sitting there, an angry look on his face. That wasn't a good way to start my day.  
"What the fuck, Logan?" he yelled throwing the newspaper to me. It hit me on the head and fell on the floor. I picked it up and once I read the title I knew what got him so angry. I made my way to the coffee pot and poured myself some "Is any of it true?" he demanded when I sat next to him.

"James..."  
"Is it true?"  
"I don't want to..." I stopped when my mobile went off.

I picked it up and saw several missed calls from my lovely ex-wife. I felt sick; I was beginning to realize an important truth about suicide, failure is as hurtful as success, and it's likely to cause more anger since there's no grief with which to water it down. I was in very deep shit.  
"Call Peggy first, then we talk," James ordered and I just nodded.  
"You fucking selfish idiot," he voice rang through the phone "I hate you so much!"  
"Morning to you too Pegs'" I said.  
Sometimes I think that Peggy didn't know me at all. She couldn't understand how much it hurt when my license was taken away, she thought I deserved it. And maybe I did but she shouldn't laugh about it in my face. And when we lost the baby...I don't know, I think that she truly believes that I didn't care. And I don't understand how my wife, the woman that moved an ocean away from her life just to be with me, could believe something like that. She wasn't there when I first arrived at the hospital and demanded to be let in the operation. She wasn't there when the chief came from his office himself to calm me down because I was throwing a bitch fit because they wouldn't let me in. She wasn't there when I started punching the wall in the waiting area, and continued doing so until my fist was raw and bloody. She wasn't there when I broke down and started sobbing like a baby, shaking and screaming. She wasn't there when there when Tim came and told me the news, when he had to actually stop me from hitting the ground. She wasn't there but that didn't mean she had any right to doubt how completely devastated I was.

"I hate you so fucking much Logan Mitchell," she said and I could hear that she had been crying. I sighed.  
"I'm sorry Peggy."  
"You're sorry? Sorry? How would you feel if you read in the newspapers that I was on some fucking rooftop ready to jump?"  
"Don't you hate me Peggy? Why do you care?" I asked starting to get angry.

"What was I to tell your parents if you'd gone through with it?"  
"My parents?" I scoffed "Even if they did find out, which I doubt since I'm not so noteworthy and news wouldn't make it to the States, they'd call James and ask for answers, not you."  
"Fuck you!"  
"Are you offering?" I asked and she slammed the phone on its base so hard that I pulled the mobile away from my ear and cringed.

"You didn't have to be an ass about it," James said and I just blinked at him.  
"That was Peggy...You know Peggy my ex-wife, the one you've been calling a bitch since she kicked me out of the house."  
"I didn't say she isn't one," James said slowly "I just said that you didn't have to be an ass, she still cares about you Logan."  
"She just said she hates me!"

"And you slept with a sixteen year old!"  
"Dude..." James had never used that against me before.  
"Sorry..." he got up from his chair, came next to me, and knelt on the floor taking a hold of my hands "Why did you get up there Logie?" he asked and I saw the tears in his eyes. I felt like a complete asshole at that moment.  
"James, please stand up," James shook his head and squeezed my hands in his.

"Would you have done it? If it weren't for Camille and Jo and Kendall, would you have done it?" he asked. I shut my eyes and I nodded "Then I'm grateful that they were there to stop you...How do you feel today?"  
I hadn't asked myself that question. I'd woken up with a hangover and then I got to the kitchen and James was there. And since then, life seemed to have a momentum. I hadn't thought about killing myself once all morning.

"Okay," I said simply shrugging.  
"So you're not...?"  
"I don't think I'll be killing myself any time soon, no," I said. James snorted a little.

"You'll tell me before you do?" he asked but it was more of a demand. It was my time to scoff.  
"So that you can try to stop me?"  
"Yeah...That, or follow you over the edge."  
"James don't be stupid, you have no reason..."  
"Oh and you do?" James countered raising an eyebrow.  
"You know I do."  
"No I don't. I know what you've been through, yes. But the Logan Mitchell that I know is not a quitter."  
"You're right, he isn't. He is just, oh so tired of everything..."  
"That sounds a lot like quitting."  
"Call it whatever you want..."  
"Okay then, if you quit, I quit."  
"No, James, it doesn't go like that!" I snapped at him. James lowered his head and his grip tightened on my hands.  
"What you don't seem to understand," he said and his voice was throaty, making me feel even worst "Is that I don't want to lose you. And by 'don't want to' I mean 'I can't'. I don't know what life without you is like, Logie, and I sure as hell don't want to find out."

"James..." I sounded to myself like a broken record "I'm sorry," I whispered.

My mobile chimed then. It was a text from Camille, had father wanted to have a talk with me. I swallowed; why did he want to meet with me? Well obviously he read the newspapers...Had Camille explained to him what happened? And why me? Why not Kendall? Kendall's name wasn't on the paper sure but if Camille told him what was going on...I was so not good with fathers.

I had to promise James several times that I would not try to kill myself before he let me out of the house. He said he'd call every sixty minutes and I was to answer. If I failed he'd organise a search party and start looking for me. Yeah, James is a little bit crazy. When I got out I noticed that the front yard was occupied by four people that wanted to call themselves journalists. I walked quickly past them, my head lowered and a pair of shades covering my eyes.  
"Is it true you tried to kill yourself?" one of them yelled after me. I stopped and looked down at myself and then up to them.  
"Well, if I did try I didn't do a very good job at it."  
"Do you know Camille Roberts?"

"Who?"  
"Camille Roberts."  
"No, I heard the name the first time, but I have no idea who she's..."  
"But the tabloids..."

"They're the tabloids," I cut the man off and opened the door of the Peugeot that I was rending. It was such a relief to be away from them. Fucking reporters! I turned on the engine and started driving. I was halfway there when the bane of my existence, also known as Camille, called to inform me that we were all going to visit Jo. At the hospital. Oh yeah, she also had the nerve to tell me that she was the one to suggest we visit at the place that I used to work and, and that if I were man enough I would suck it up and play along.

Before I knocked on Camille's door I sat in the car for a couple of minutes and examined my conscience. The last confrontation that I had with an angry father came shortly after my ill-advised, and as it turned out, illegal sexual encounter I had with Hanna. Let's just say that her father, who waited for me outside my old house, wasn't so happy with the fact that a married man almost ten years older than his daughter had taken advantage of her. But even before that I knew that fathers hated me; it all started with Peggy. When I went to take her from her house the day of the prom her father made it very clear that he wasn't so fond of me and that if I made a move on his daughter that night he'd have me executed. Then when I proposed he said that we were too young to get married and therefore he didn't give us his blessing, if I remember correctly Peggy's mom threatened to leave him if he didn't change his mind. When Peggy told her parents we were moving in Britain her dad came over to our place and started a fight that I refused to take a part to, that angered him more and I gained a broken nose. Do I need to tell you how disgustingly happy he was when he found out about Hanna and me? I mean, his daughter was a crying mess, and still he just gloated about how right he was about me.

I knew that I hadn't done nothing wrong. In fact I should be considered a hero; I did stop Camille from jumping after all. Sure I tackled her, and straddled her and all...but it was in a completely non-sexual way.  
Richard Roberts, unfortunately, was not prepared to greet me as a hero. I wasn't offered a handshake or a cup of coffee; I was ushered into his living room and was left there to wait for him. When he did arrive he nearly tore me a new one; I had apparently shown lack of judgment- I should've found out Camille's surname and phone number and called him. And I had also somehow shown 'a lack of taste'- Mr Roberts seemed to be under the impression that the only reason his daughter was in the tabloids was because of me. Because I'm the kind of person who appears in cheap newspapers. When I tried to point out the various flaws in his logic, he claimed that I was like to very well out of it all. I was ready to stand up and leave when Camille appeared.

"Didn't I tell you to stay upstairs?"  
"Yeah, and I stopped listening to what you said when you abandoned Mom, Aria and I back when I was five years old," Camille said with a bite and he squirmed a little on his seat; it was quite obvious that he was afraid of her "Didn't I tell you not to start a fight with Logan?" she demanded.  
"I'm your father Camille and..."  
"And before you read on the papers what you read you never really cared about me," she said glaring at him "Why do you even care how I spent my New Year's Eve?"  
"It looks like you spend it together..."  
"Yeah, by accident! But even if that wasn't the case," Camille walked through the living room and came to sit on the couch next to me "Why do you even care?"

"Did you sleep with my daughter, Mr Mitchell?" Mr Roberts asked and I chocked on my own saliva. Camille's hand came to my back and patted me a couple of times.  
"How is that any of your fucking business dad?"  
"Language young lady, you know you're not too old for me to have you grounded."  
"I'm twenty three!" she snapped.

"I asked you a question," Mr Roberts said again looking at me.  
"No, no! Of course not."  
"Hey!" Camille punched my shoulder.  
"What?"  
"You don't have to say it like that! Like you're so relieved or something! You should be so lucky," she said with a coy smile. I found myself smiling back before I realized what I was doing.  
"I value our friendship too much to complicate it," I said earnestly as I could and she rolled her eyes.  
"Ha ha."  
"Are you going to maintain a relationship with Camille?" her father asked.  
"Define your terms."  
"Define yours first."  
"Listen Mr Roberts, with all due respect," I said but my voice showed anything but "I came here because I knew how worried you must be. But if you're going to talk to me like that, I'll head home."  
"I'm sorry," Mr Roberts said after a second, Camille was shooting daggers with her eyes "But you know the family history now. It doesn't make things easy for me."

"Ha! See all you care about is you and yourself you miserable..."  
"Camille, don't talk like that to your father," I said and Camille shut up and glared at me instead. Mr Robert's almost smiled.  
"It's hard for all of us," he said in a soft voice.  
"I can see that," I said and he nodded.  
"So what can we do? Please? If you've got any ideas..."  
"The thing is, I've got problems of my own," I said.

"Really?" Camille said rather tauntingly "And I was wondering why you were up there."

"I appreciate that, Logan," he had clearly been media-trained to use first names wherever possible, to show that he was my friend "I have a hunch about you. I can see you've made some, some wrong turns..." Camille scoffed and then started laughing "But i don't think you're a bad man," he concluded looking at his daughter seriously.  
"Thank you," I said knowing very well that it was all bull.

"We're in a gang, aren't we Logan? Tell him," Camille pressed and I rolled my eyes.  
"Oh yeah, we're in a gang...And we're friends forever."  
"What sort of gang?" said Mr Roberts.  
"We're going to look out for each other. Aren't we Logan?"  
"We are, Camille," if my words became any wearier, they would no longer have the energy to crawl up my throat and out of my mouth. I could imagine them slithering back down to where they'd come from.  
"So you'll be in loco parentis, after all?"  
"What? No, I don't...first of all, I don't think that I'm the right person to put in that position. Second, Camille is twenty-three, she's old enough not to need someone to watch her every move. Plus, I'm only like, two and a half years older than her..."  
"All I want to know is that you're going to be around."  
"He's promised," Camille said clenching on my arm; it was one of the few things that she did that didn't make me to want to strangle her. Her father's gaze turned serious when he saw that but Camille only held on tighter.

"And I'm supposed to feel reassured by that?"  
"You can feel what you like, but I'm not reassuring anyone about anything."  
"Do you have children of your own?" he asked and it was kind like a kick to the gut.  
"Almost," Camille muttered and she stroked my arm. Her father didn't seem to listen. I shook my head negatively.

"I don't need to spell out how worried I've been about Camille, and what a difference it would make to know that there was a sensible adult looking out for her."  
"Camille is an adult," I pointed out.

"You are more sensible than I am," Camille whispered to me loudly "You know what with your history of sleeping with sixteen-year-olds."  
"Shut up," I said but it was more playful than all the other times.  
"All I want you to say is that if you see Camille getting herself into serious trouble, you'll either try to prevent it, or you'll tell me about it." To that I could agree. I had already stopped her from doing something stupid, and well if I could prevent her from getting into more trouble, then I'd definitely do it.

"He'd love to," Camille said in my behalf "But he's flat broke."  
"Why is money relevant?"  
"Because, say you have to keep an eye on me and I'd gone into some club or something, and they wouldn't let you in because you're broke...Well..."  
"Well what?" Mr Roberts asked.  
"I could go in there and OD...and I'd be dead, just because you were too mean to stump up."And suddenly I could see where this was going.

"How much do you want?" Mr Roberts asked letting out a sigh, his eyes on me.  
"Me? I don't want anything," I said. Camille nudged me on the ribs.  
"Shut up, yes you do. Yes he does."  
"How much does it cost to get into a club, these days?" her father asked.  
"You can get through a hundred quid, easy," Camille said.

"I don't doubt you can 'get through' a hundred quid without trying. But he wouldn't need to 'get through' anything, would he? He'd only need the price of admission, if you overdosed on drugs..."  
"So, what you're saying is; my life isn't worth a hundred quid to you?" Camille yelled jumping off the couch "That's nice, especially after what happened to Aria. I wouldn't have thought you had enough daughters to spare."  
"Cam, that's not fair."  
The front door slammed somewhere between the 'not' and the 'fair', and Mr Roberts and I were left staring at each other.

"I handled that badly," he said "Didn't I?"  
"Well," I shrugged "She was extorting money, with menaces. Either you give her as much as she asks every time, or she storms out. I can see how that can be a little bit...Disconcerting, given the family history."  
"I'll give her as much as she wants, every time she asks for it," he said. I hate to admit it, but I felt bad for him "Please go find her."  
I left the house two hundred and fifty pounds richer; Camille came up to me, grinning excitedly. She halted right in front of me, almost entering my personal space.  
"I'll bet you got double what we were asking for," she sing-sang and I tiled my head on the side "Always works when you mention Aria."

**A/N: So...how was that? Did you guys like it? **


	7. The Angel

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the series, not the group, and definitely not Nick Hornby's book; I just based the story on it. **

**A/N: This chapter is a little bit weird, I think, especially Logan's last part...But I'll let you read it and come up with a verdict, okay? Okay...**

Chapter 7

The Angel

_Camille_

You won't believe this, I don't even know whether I believe it or not, but the Aria-thing had nothing to do with what I decided to do on New Year's Eve. I could tell from talking to the others after they read the paper, that no one else saw it that way though. They were like: "Ooh, I get it now; your sister disappeared, so you want to jump off a building." But it isn't like that. I mean, yeah sure, Aria's disappearance played a key role in the story, but it wasn't the whole reason why.

Everyone reacts to something like that in different ways, don't they? Some people would start support groups; Mom and Dad are always trying to introduce me to some freaking group or the other – especially Dad. And some people would sit down, turn the TV, and watch for the next twenty years. My reaction was different...I started messing around. Because believe it or not I wasn't like that in the past. I mean if my friends from Connecticut were to see me now I doubt that they'd recognise me.

Before I go on I'll answer the one question that I'm always asked, just so you don't sit there wondering; cause I need you to concentrate on the actually story and not Aria's tale. So, no, I don't know where she is. Do I think she's alive? Yes. Why do I think she's alive? Because they never found a body, and because the whole thing with the discarded car by the cliff seemed phony to me; Aria was smart if she wanted to kill herself she would've found a better way to do so, something I don't...something unique...And I want to believe that if she was dead, _I _would know. I would feel it. What does it feel like, having a missing sister? You know how if you lose something valuable, a piece of jewellery or say your keys, you can't concentrate on anything else? Well, it feels exactly like that. All the time. Every day.

There's something else that people tend to ask; "Where, do you think she is?" It's not the same question as: "Do you know where she is?" At first I couldn't really see the difference, the meaning seemed the same to me. When I saw the difference, I realized that the first question was more poetic. It's not like they were asking me if I knew where to find her, it was more like a way of asking what Aria was like. Do I think she's in Africa, helping people that need it? Or do I think she's on one long permanent rave, or writing poems in some small cosy flat somewhere in Spain, or travelling through the bus in Australia? So here's what I think; I think that she got sick and tired of Connecticut and our parents fighting in any chance they got. I think that she's in a little town, somewhere sunny, like Texas or even California, and she's with a man that loves her, a man that can make her laugh and feel safe because that's all Aria ever wanted in order to be happy. So that's what I tell people...except...I don't know whether I'm telling them about Aria or about me.

Oh, and one more thing, don't sit around hoping for her to pop in later on and rescue me, okay? She doesn't come back and this is not the kind of story that would end like that. And we don't find out whether she's alive or not, this is not Aria's tale. Just forget about it...Well, don't forget about her, because she's important. But forget that sort of ending.

The hospital that Logan used to work at, the one we were visiting is halfway between Topper's House and Kentish Town. It looked huge and imposing as it occupied at least five blocks on its own. I told Logan that I always was somewhat afraid of hospitals but he didn't respond to me. He looked a bit tired, and when I asked him if he was he just nodded along.

It was just me and Logan in the car, Kendall didn't want to ride with us, even though we nearly went past his flat. I think Kendall would've helped to smooth the conversation along. I wanted to talk because I was nervous, and when I'm nervous I bubble. I was nervous because of the conversation between me, my Dad and Logan, and because I was about to enter a rather huge hospital that made me shiver just at the sight of it. If Kendall was in the car with us he would've found a way to shut me up.

And I was also nervous because we were about to meet Alex, and I didn't really know what to expect. To be fair to her though, Alex was pretty perfect. She didn't do anything; she just slept on, on her bed, with the various monitors bleeping around her, as we sat in her hospital bedroom. After a little while, and if your back is turned on the bed you kind of forget that she's there at all. I coped better than I thought I would to be honest. Bloody hell though. Poor Jo. I'll tell you, if it was me, you wouldn't have persuaded down from that roof. No way.

I was kind of surprised to find out that Kendall was already there. He was sitting on a chair next to Jo, talking with her in a low voice. He was talking animatedly and she had a small smile on her face and I felt kind of like interrupting. Logan cleared his throat, and then it was like a family reunion, though no one looked like each other and no one was too pleased to see each other. Kendall offered to go get us all some coffee and Logan volunteered to help him. So then I was left alone in the room with Jo, and the bleeping.  
I had never been in a comma patient's room before. It was completely different than your usual hospital room; all the walls were covered with photos, and drawings, and even some posters. The paint wasn't white but instead lilac and on the top corners there were painted flowers. Things that you would find in a young adults room were lying all around and made me sift my weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. It was quite obvious that this place was much more than a hospital bedroom; it was, for all intense and purposes, Alex's house.

_Kendall_

I refused to tag along with Camille and Logan because I needed time to think. I'd done a couple of interviews in the past, when the band was still alive, but this guys were fans, sweet guys they were really; they'd jazz their pants if you gave them a signed demo CD and let them buy you a beer. But these people, these journalists the 'knock-on-the-door' type...I knew nothing about them. All I knew was that they were pretty resourceful; they'd found out my address in twenty-four hours. There was pretty much nothing they couldn't do.

That reporter lady had managed to make me perfectly paranoid. If she so wanted she could find out about the band in less than five minutes. And then she'd get a hold of Carlos, and Lucy and then she'd find out I wasn't dying of anything- or that if I was I had kept the news to myself. I was so freaked out that I thought I was in trouble. So on my way to the hospital, I'd taken a cab, I decided to come clean; tell them all about everything, and if they didn't like it, fuck 'em. But I didn't want them reading it on the papers.  
When I got there the other two were nowhere to be seen. I hesitated on the door; it was ajar and I could see Jo sitting on a white armchair, her feet tucked underneath her, scribbling something on a pad. Next to her there was a bed; a mop of unruly brown locks spread over the pillow, and a pale face with full lips and a straight nose. That was my first glimpse of Alex.

"Staring isn't very polite you know," Jo's voice drifted to me and I pushed the door open and stepped in the room.  
"I didn't want to interrupt," I said with a small shrug. Jo gave me a smile and hurriedly put the notebook on a stack of magazines on a coffee table.

"You're not," she said and brushed some hair out of her face.  
"So..." I said bouncing on the balls of my feet. The room around me didn't remind me of a hospital room; it was exactly what you expect a room of a twenty year old woman to be.  
"So..." Jo trailed off. She stood up and came near me "Kendall, this is my sister Alex," she said gesturing towards Alex "Alex, this is one of the guys I told you about...the blond one," Jo said and I had to stop myself from chuckling "She says she's pleased to meet you," Jo said with a cheeky smile. I raised an eyebrow but decided to play along.  
"And I'm very pleased to meet you Alex," I said walking closer to the end of her bed "Now I see why Jo kept you from us; she thought we'd like you more," I heard Jo laughing.  
"Oh yeah, I agree," she said with a small nod. I looked at her questioningly "Well, Alex says, you're charming," Jo explained herself.  
"I am? Hmm, thanks Alex," I bid her. Jo sighed and went back to her chair.  
"You must think I'm so crazy," she said with a shake of her head. I took one of the chairs that were around a table and dragged it closer to her.  
"Not crazy," I said firmly and her eyes found mine, I held her gaze "Just a little lonely," I added with a shrug.  
"Oh," she scoffed "Why don't you try a lot?"

"It's a shared feeling, trust me."  
"Is it?"  
"Isn't it?" I asked back and Jo shot me a dirty look "If it wasn't would we be on Topper's House during New Year's Eve?"

"I guess you have a point," she gave in.  
"So how long have you been voicing her part of the discussion?"

"A little while after the accident. At first I didn't mind just talking to her but then..." Jo let a dry chuckle "I wanted her input, so I started talking like I was her."  
"What was she like?" I asked and momentarily Jo's eyes grew cold.  
"What she's like," she corrected me. I felt like a complete idiot.  
"Sorry, my bad..."  
"It's okay. She is sweet and she has a very dark sense of humour. Her sarcasm bites and she can be curt at times, but she's always honest," Jo's expression was warm and serene as she talked about her sister; I liked that look on her.

"Mmm, we haven't talked much and I already prefer you to Jo, Alex," I said turning my eyes on the sleeping girl. Jo chuckled again and hit me on the arm. It felt good, the ability to make someone else laugh, lately I had forgotten how to do that.

Jo then asked me something about the band and I found that it was easy to respond. The usual tightness on my stomach whenever The Rush was brought up was still there but the words that came out of my mouth were calm, they made sense, unlike all the other times when my response was an incomprehensible groan. Jo was easy to talk too, and she was a great listener.  
When Logan cleared his throat I cursed him in my head. I wasn't ready to be before all of them. Being alone with Jo for half an hour was easy but now that Logan and Camille were there I would have to tell them the truth. My stomach started turning and in a desperate attempt to delay the unavoidable I offered to go get some coffees. Logan came along to help. He was silent and his eyes looked troubled. I tried to make some small talk but he didn't respond.

Once back in the room it took us a while to get comfortable. It took Camille a little while to get used at the bleeping of the monitors. As we settled on our seats and the silence settled between us I think we were all thinking the same thing; we were all wondering whether we could have coped, if we were Jo; I know that at least I was trying to figure out whether anything could have persuaded me to come back down off that roof.

"Camille," Logan was the first to speak "You wanted us to meet. Why don't you tell us what you have in mind?"

"Ok," she said and she cleared her throat "We are gathered here today..." she started and Logan laughed. She narrowed her eyes and fixed him with a glare "Is there something funny?" Logan shook his head, lowering his eyes while biting on his lip "No seriously, I want to know; what's so funny?"  
"Sorry, I just wasn't I aware we're in a church, cause you know that's where people talk like that." There was a long pause.  
"I knew that," Camille said raising her chin a little "That was the vibe I was after."  
"Oh yeah, sure," Logan said with a condescending nod. Camille growled.  
"It was!" she insisted.  
"Hah and why is that?"  
"Jo, you go to church don't you?" Camille asked looking to her left.  
"Ugh...I used to, yeah," Jo said.  
"See, I was trying to make Jo feel comfortable," Camille said with a smile. Logan pressed his lips together and nodded again.  
"Very thoughtful," he said and I scoffed. Camille punched his arm and Logan scooted farther away from her.  
"Shut up! Why do you have to screw up everything I do?" she demanded.

"I can almost smell the incense..." Logan trailed off tauntingly.  
"Right, you can start it off then, you fucking..."  
"Could you, maybe, not...I don't know, not swear too much, in front of Alex?" Jo stepped in.

I held my breath and saw Logan doing the same as we both hoped against hope that Camille wasn't going to point out the obvious...

"In front of Alex? But she's..."

"I don't have cancer," I said. I don't know why I blurted out the moment I did, maybe to stop the fight that I knew was going to ensue between Camille and Jo, I mean sure I was going to tell them but I had intended to give myself a little more preparation time. There was a silence, which dragged on pretty long for my taste.

"Oh...that's great, I guess. No not great, fantastic!"

It took me a minute to realize that in the weird world of Camille, they had not only found a cure for lung cancer during the Christmas' holidays, but delivered it to my front door sometime between New Year's Eve and January 2nd.

"That's not what Kendall is trying to say," Logan told her and Camille scrunched her face.  
"No," I admitted "The thing is I never had it."  
"No! Bastards!"

"Who?"  
"The fuck-bloody doctors!" at Alex's hospital room 'fuck-blood' became Camille's curse of choice "You should sue them! Supposing you'd jumped? And they'd got it wrong? Phew, I can have my father be the ruling judge in your case if you want." Damn, did it really have to be this hard?

"Camille," Logan's voice was slow, like he was talking to a five year old "I don't think that this is what he's trying to say either."  
"Listen, I'll try to be as clear as possible; I do not have, nor ever had, lung cancer. I'm not dying of it. I just made the story up cause...I don't know. Partly because I wanted sympathy, partly because I thought you wouldn't understand what's really wrong with me. I'm sorry."  
"You're such a jackass," Camille said crossing her arms. Jo's gaze was hurt as she looked at me.  
"You lied?" she asked and I sighed.  
"I'm sorry," I said again.

"Sorry won't cut it," Camille said.

I could almost see the smile that Logan refused to let grace his lips. Telling people you have an incurable disease when you don't is probably right up there with seducing a sixteen-year-old. I could understand why he was enjoying my embarrassment, I would too if I was in his place.

"So, why did you say it?" Camille wanted to know.  
"Yeah, what wouldn't we be able to understand?" Logan joined in.

"It...I don't know. Everything seemed so straightforward with you guys. Logan and the...you know," I said and Camille patted Logan's shoulder "And Jo and..." my eyes trailed off to Alex's bed.  
"It wasn't straightforward with me," said Camille "I was whining about Steve and explanations."  
"Yeah but...No offense, I just thought you were kind of a loony. Didn't really matter what you said."  
"So, what was wrong with you," Jo asked.  
"I guess you say depression."

"Dude, c'mon, we understand depression," Logan said "We're all depressed."  
"Yeah I know. But mine seemed too...too fucking vague, sorry Jo," I apologised quickly. She just shrugged it off.  
"Try us out," Logan coaxed leaning on the table "We're understanding people."  
"Ok, so the short version is, all I wanted to do was be a hockey player, but then I broke my knee and that couldn't happen any longer. And then my best buddy, Carlos, said that we should start a rock'n'roll band."  
"Rock'n'roll?" Logan echoed "Like Cliff Richard and The shadows?" he asked and Camille's eyebrows reached her hairline.  
"Like who?" she asked back and Logan's face turned pink.

"Cliff Richard and...My dad was a fan," he said and then shut up. I shook my head.  
"No, man. That's not...Like I don't know, The Who, or..."  
"But they're not rock'n'roll," Jo interjected "The Who are rock."  
"Ok, ok, all I wanted to do was be in a rock band," I corrected myself "Like the Who, or the Animals..."  
"Crusty music," Camille clarified my term and I nodded.

"Whatever, jeez! And a few weeks before Christmas my band finally split for good. And soon after we split, my girlfriend dumped me. She's living permanently in England, even though she's American...that's why I was here." There was silence again.  
"That's it?" Camille inquired.  
"That's it," I said.  
"Well that blows to happen to you all in a month...But it is also a pathetic reason for you to want to kill yourself. So I see why you came up with all that crap about the disease now. You'd rather die than not be in a band that doesn't sounds like The Who? I'd do the opposite; I'd die if I was. I mean who listens to the Who anymore?"  
"Hey! Don't trash the Who!" Jo defended and Camille turned to her with an incredulous expression "What? I happen to like good music!" she snapped crossing her arms. Camille's eyes flickered between Jo and I.  
"Well, you should marry her, she's your soul mate, you have the same crappy taste in music," she said matter-of-factly. I noticed that Jo's cheeks flushed red but I felt like we were losing focus on my issues, and I didn't want that.  
"The Who thing...it's kind of irrelevant. That was just like an illustration. I just meant...songs, guitars, energy, you know."

"Rodger Daltrey is like seventy, he has no energy," Camille said.  
"I saw them live once, when they were on tour, I was...ten, maybe," Logan said "He was pretty good back then."  
"Well back then he was fifty, of course he had energy!"  
"Will you shut the fuck up already?" I demanded and then threw an apologetic smile to Jo but she seemed to have forgotten that she asked us not to cuss "I'm trying to tell you about my whole life."  
"No one's stopping you. But you've got to make it more interesting. That's why we drift off and talk amongst ourselves," Camille said.

"Ok alright look, there's nothing else for me. My hockey scholarship was revoked; I ended up in a community college and majored in English. All I had was the band and now it's gone and I didn't make a cent out of it. And now I have to go around delivering pizzas, and I'm afraid it will kill me."  
"Hard work never killed anyone," Jo told me and I let a sigh.  
"I don't mind the work. But when we were touring, and when we were recording...That was for me, that's who I was, I was alive then. And now I just feel empty and frustrated and..." I stopped and chuckled "See we were good, and we knew we were good, and we thought just because of it that we'd make it...and we didn't. And I have this, this pent up energy that I usually got rid of it on live shows, or when we were not on the road I would go in the studio late at night all alone and I would just sing, and get it all out. But now I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with it! We used to have this song..." I have no idea why I started telling them of this "this song that Carlos and I wrote together, and it was about how we'd always have each other's back, it was a tribute to our friendship and how far back we went...Anyhow it was on our first album and it was like two minutes long, people who actually bought the album didn't even notice it. But when we started playing it live, it kind of got longer; Carlos started adding on solos, and then another bridge, another verse here and there...That little two minutes song ended up being a twelve minute showstopper. And we always opened and closed with it, fans demanded it every single time. To my ears it was like...like the sound of pure joy. It made me high, and I had I to give up on it...I had the ability to make myself high out of my mind in daily bases as part of my working...You know that I think about it I can see why I made up that bullshit about cancers, about dying of some disease. Because that's what it feels like. I'm dying of some disease that dries up all the blood in your veins and all your sap and, and everything that makes you alive and..."  
"Yeah, and?" Logan asked when I didn't continue "You seem to have omitted the part about why you want to kill yourself."  
"That's it," I said "That's my reason."  
"Well, Kendall that happens to everyone," Logan said "it's called 'getting older'..."  
"No, no that's not in," Camille said shaking her head "I get it."  
"You do?" I asked surprised.  
"Of course I do. You're fucked," she said with a shrug "You thought you were all that, that you were going to be someone, but now it's obvious that you aren't. You haven't got as much talent as you thought you had, and there was no plan B. You have no skills, no education, and no loaded parents to inherit; well at least I guess that you don't. So you're looking forward to...nothing. Less than nothing probably. That's some heavy shit. That's worse than having cancer, that would've killed you faster, what you got now will take a lot longer. You've got the choice of slow painful death, or a quick merciful one." Camille shrugged again; she was right, she got it.

_Jo_

I don't know why but it bugged me that Kendall lied to us. After his explanation and Camille's, which surprisingly made much more sense, I could understand why he did it. But it still annoyed me. I found that I couldn't look at his face, so when I spoke at him I just looked at the table in front of me. I was also kind surprised, the good kind, that no one commented on the hospital room. I had noticed how they stared at first and when we were left alone Camille fidgeted but they didn't make any snide remarks; they actually said nothing about it.

I practically live in the room with my sister, for the past years and it is hard not to leave your personal mark when you live somewhere. I'd done more than live my mark. Since Alex is a long term patient, as long as I pay the bills each month, her room is her own. After my father left us I decided to make it as cosy and homey as I could. I wanted Alex to know that I was still there, that I still loved her. It took me a lot of time but I managed to persuade them to let me paint the walls, white was making nervous and Alex hated it as a colour. But Alex didn't know that the walls were white so why did it matter? Still Alex couldn't hear me when I was talking to her, she couldn't respond when I asked her something, and she didn't feel it when I kissed her forehead, but I still did all that staff. I was pretending, everything I did was pretending, so why not do it properly?

When I finished decorating her room it was like I was transported back in our house in North Carolina; the hospital room was an exact replica of Alex's bedroom. Her photo collages covered the wall behind her bed. The black and white canvass photographs of Eiffel Tower, the Brooklyn Bridge, London's Eye, and the leaning tower of Pisa, were on the opposite wall of her bed. Some drawings that Alex had drawn that she was particularly proud of were by the window. I had also brought over my stereo that was resting in the corner next to the bathroom.

When Camille asked if she could take a magazine with her in the bathroom I didn't know how much of a klutz she was. So I just pointed to the coffee table and told her to take whatever she wanted. And then she knocked everything down.  
"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed quickly and started picking everything up. As she grabbed the black notebook with her left hand a not slipped from it. She darted forward and caught it and then opened the pad to put it back in... "What is that?" she asked looking up at me. I froze in my seat.

"It's...nothing, just put it back," I said jumping up quickly. Camille shook her head and started turning the pages.  
"Are these lyrics?" she asked in amazement still turning pages.  
"It's none of your business!" I snapped.  
"And music! Wow, are you quite the little composure?" she asked and my cheeks flushed but it was anger and not shyness that caused it.  
"Camille put them back," Kendall ordered.  
"But...these are really great Jo, you should show them to someone."  
"I don't fucking want to show them to anyone, because they're private!"  
"Camille," Logan said as well.

"Seriously, either put them back, or get out," Kendall said standing. Realizing she was defeated Camille slipped the torn page back in its rightful place and handed the notebook to me.  
"You should really show them to someone," she said with a friendly smile and headed to the toilet. I sighed and hugged the notebook close to my chest; who knew that Camille Roberts would be the first person to read the suicide notes that had turned into songs?

_Logan_

I couldn't care less about Jo's lyrics; it was obviously something private that she didn't want to share so I didn't even bother. I did notice though that Kendall stole glances towards the black notebook that was tightly clasped in Jo's hands.

"You can't stand your dad, can you?" I had no idea where that came from but the words slipped out of my mouth. Camille scoffed.  
"Can you blame me? You saw the guy! He picked up a fight with you for no reason."  
"And yet you live with him."  
"So?"

"If you hate him so much, how can you stand it?" Kendall asked. He was still a bit upset with Camille and it showed, but he was making an effort at being civilized.

"Well when I moved from Connecticut I was too young to get my own house, according to mom. And now I can't really afford it," Camille said "And well, I do have a cleaner, cable and broadband so..."  
"Ah, to b young and idealistic and principled," I said "Anti-globalization, pro-cleaner, hah?"  
"Yeah, yeah, bite me," she said snidely "Like I'm really gonna get lectured by you two jerks. Plus, there's the other thing, the Aria thing. They worry."  
Looking at this conversation in a certain light, it could be summarized as follows; a man recently imprisoned for having sex with a minor, and another one who fabricated a fatal disease because to do so saved him some time, trouble and face had ridiculed a grieving young woman for wanting to be at home with her grieving father...So the Aria thing gave Kendall and I a pause.

"I was sorry to hear about your sister," Jo said genuinely. Camille offered a real smile that reached her eyes; I don't think I had seen her smiling like that before.  
"Thanks really, that's sweet, but I've come to terms with it."  
"Have you?" I asked.  
"Yeah, I think so..."  
"It must be a strange thing to have to get used to," I said and Camille twisted a lock of hair between her fingers.  
"Strange...yes, a bit."  
"Don't you think about it all the time?" Kendall asked her.

"Ugh, can we not talk about Aria?" she asked and I was the first one to nod "I mean we are here for another reason..."  
"Which is what, exactly?" Jo asked.

"What we're going to do, with the papers I mean."  
"Do we...have to do something?" I asked. She tilted her head on the side and peered at me.  
"I think so."  
"They'll forget about us soon, you know," I said.

"What if we don't want them to forget about us?" Camille questioned.  
"Why would we want them to remember us?" I asked frowning.  
"We could make some cash. And it'd be something to do."  
"So because you're bored, essentially," Kendall pointed out. I shook my head.  
"No hang on, what would be something to do?"  
"I dunno...I just get the feeling that we're different. That people would like us, and be interest in us."  
"In us?" Jo echoed and Camille nodded. I scoffed.  
"You're mental."  
"Yeah, exactly! That's why they'd be interested in me. I could even play it up a bit, if you like."  
"Oh no trust me, there's no reason to do so," I said quickly on behalf of the three of us, and indeed of behalf of the entire population of Britain "You're fine as you're."  
Camille smiled sweetly, surprised by the unsought compliment. Once again it reached her eyes, I felt myself smiling back "Thanks Logan, so are you. And well I bet that people would want to know how you fucked up your life and that girl. And you Kendall they'd want to know about your band and delivering pizzas. And Jo could tell everyone about how shit it is spending all her day with Alex, she can even show them her lyrics, or not," she said quickly at the blond woman's glare "See we'd be like superheroes! We've all got some secret superpower."  
"Yeah..." said Kendall "Right on. I have the superpower of delivering pizzas. And Jo has the superpower of a sister in comatose state."  
"Well, ok, not a superpower...More like, we have something."  
"Ah, yes, a thing," I said and she glared at me but she was too distraught of her vision to actually argue with me.

"And we could say that we still haven't decided whether we're going to actually top ourselves- they'd like that."

"And if we actually sold the TV right to Valentine's Night...Maybe they could turn it into a Big Brother kinda thing; you could root for the person you wanted to go over," Kendall said sarcastically. Camille looked like she was actually considering the idea.  
"I don't know about that...But, Logan, you know about the press and all, we could make some money out of it, right?"  
"Has it ever occurred to you that I've had enough trouble with the papers?"

"Why does it always have to be about you, huh?" Camille demanded "I mean, Jo and Kendall could obviously use the money!"  
"But what's the story?" Kendall stepped in "There's no story. We went up, we came down, that's it. People must do that all the time."  
"I've been thinking about this. How about if we saw something?" Camille said.  
"Like what?" Jo asked with a curious look "What are we supposed to have seen?"  
"Ok...How about if we saw an angel?"

"An angel?" Kendall said flatly.

"Yeah."  
"So you want us to...invent an angel encounter in order to get money?" Jo asked and Camille huffed.  
"Well it's not really inventing, is it?" she asked.

"No?" I said raising an eyebrow "In what sense did we actually see an angel?"  
"What do you call it in poems?" she said and I blinked at her.

"I'm sorry what?"  
"You know in poems. When you want to say that something is like something else..."  
"Are you talking about similes and metaphors?" I questioned and she clapped once.

"Yeah! Exactly! Shakespeare invented them, didn't he? That's why..."  
"No," I cut her off. Camille gave me a dirty look.  
"Who was it then?"  
"Homer."  
"Who?"  
"Never mind."  
"Hmm...So why was Shakespeare a genius? What did he do?"

"Let's leave that for another lesson, shall we?"  
"Okay...Anyway. So forget about the similes, we only need the metaphors," she said with a mischievous smirk. We just looked at her "We didn't really see an angel. But we sort of did, metaphorically."  
"...So, we sort of, metaphorically, saw an angel," Kendall repeated. He had the flat disbelief thing off pat now.

"Yup, I mean, something turned us back. Something saved our lives. It might as well be an angel."

"But there was no angel," Jo said.  
"Yeah I know that. But they don't, we could say that we saw one. It's not like there was anyone else up there with us..." for some reason I suddenly lost patience.  
"What? Camille, can you even hear yourself?" Camille remained silent but pinned in my eyes "We didn't see an angel, literally or metaphorically. And, incidentally, seeing something metaphorically, whatever it means is not the same as seeing something for real. With your eyes. Which, as I understand it, is what you're proposing we should say? That's not embellishing, that's just talking bullshit! And I think the whole angel thing is something that you should keep to yourself."  
"But say if we get on TV and get a chance to...you know, spread our message?" she said and I think that we were all too tired of arguing with her to actually say something. Though in the end Jo managed a doubtful,

"What the hell is our message?"  
"Well, that's sort of up to us, isn't it?"  
Now tell me honestly, how can anyone argue with a mind like this? The three of us never managed to find a way, though stay assured I am still trying to find a way, so we contented ourselves with ridicule and sarcasm, and the afternoon ended with an unofficial agreement that since the three-quarters of us didn't particularly enjoy our brief encounter with the media, we would allow the story to die out peacefully. And then, a couple of hours after I got home, there was a phone call that James answered. When he was done with it, he came to the living room, sat next to me, and demanded to know when the fuck I saw an angel and why I didn't tell him.

**A/N: If you didn't like the chapter blame my studying and my finals... **

**PS I don't know if Homer was the first author that used similes and metaphors, it's just an educated guess. **


	8. Castiel

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the series, not the group, and definitely not Nick Hornby's book; I just based the story on it. **

**A/N: I have the inkling suspicion that the previous chapter was my worst update yet...maybe I'm wrong...Anyway**

Chapter 8

Castiel

_Camille_

The others were not happy. Especially Logan, he went ballistic. He called me at home and went off on one for about ten minutes. But I endured it because when Dad answered the phone Logan didn't say anything about the story; if he had there wouldn't be a story. It was simple; as long as the four of us stuck together, we could say we'd seen whatever we wanted to have seen. I didn't really care about the money, no matter what I said to the others, it's not like I need it. But I saw this as the first big test for us as a group. They all had a straightforward choice to make; were they on my side or not? And deep down, or maybe even not that down, I wanted them to choose my side, I didn't know if I could lose more people than I had already lost.

Before Aria went missing, before I started acting like I a bully as Jo so kindly put it, I was a good girl. Not the perfect daughter, with the perfect grades and the perfect attitude, but I was a nice, a bit on the shy side, a girl with just one ambition; to be a star. I wanted to be an actress; my Dad always said I had a flavour for the dramatics. But Aria left and away went my dream...Even back then, when I was a good girl, I had a knack at being sneaky. So it was easy for me to bring up the reporter when we were back in the hospital and ask for her name and the paper she worked for without making Kendall suspicious; for all he knew I was just making conversation. The minute I got out of Logan's car and into my house my mind was made up. I called the paper, said I'd only speak to her, and when I carelessly mentioned my last name they were more than willing to give me her mobile number.

She was called Lydia, and she was really friendly but being raised by a Judge I knew that she was just trying to win me over. She didn't have to though; I wanted to talk to her. When at first I didn't say anything she must've thought that I was nervous or something, in reality I was just trying to find a way to ease in the Angel situation, so she started talking trying to coax the information out of me. She was pretty good at that. And she was very trusting, which was good for me but too bad for her.

"What did the angel look like Camille?" she asked after about twenty minutes when I'd find a way to successfully slip up and mention that the reason we came down was because of an angel. It irritated me that she said my name so many times, she wanted to show me that we were friends, but I had decided to play nice so I didn't say anything.

"Not what you'd expect," I said. There was a small pause from the other line.  
"What, no wings or halos, Camille?" Lydia asked and I muffled a groan at the mention of my name, again. Lydia laughed then with her own joke and I rolled my eyes, but joined in.  
"No, no, I think he left his wings back home," I joked "He actually looked kind of...modern."  
"Really?"

"Yeah, he looked like any bloke you'd see out on the streets," I said. Lydia remained silent and I had an idea "You know, you could say that he looked familiar..."  
"Familiar how?"  
"Have you ever seen this American show, it's about two brothers that hunt monsters or whatever..."  
"No I don't think I'm familiar with it," she said and I grinned; that was even better.  
"Well it's called Supernatural, and anyway, around season four after Dean died, Dean is one of the brothers –the older one, and went to hell they had to do something to bring him back. So they brought in a new character, an angel who supposedly saved Dean from Perdition..."  
"Your Angel looked like him?"  
"Yeah, that's why I call him Castiel; that was the name of the character in the series."  
"So the Angel looked like the actor who played an angel in TV?"  
"Yeah...no...Well it's not like they look like twins or anything, but they do share some similarities."

"And when did he appear, the angel?"  
"When?"  
"Yes...I mean, how close were you to jumping when he appeared?"  
"Oh, I was on the edge, staring down..."  
"Wow, that's pretty close. So the others were just watching you...?"  
"No! We'd decided we were going to go over together, no man left behind...We'd just finished saying our goodbyes to each other and we were going to do One, Two, Three, Jump when we heard this voice behind us..."  
"Didn't he startle you?"  
"Yeah, I almost fell but I grabbed Logan's arm and steadied myself."  
"So...in a way you could say that Logan saved you?" she asked.  
"Yeah, you could say that," I said nodding even though she couldn't see me. Logan did save me; if he hadn't tackled me I would probably be six feet under by now.

"So then you all turned around..."  
"Yeah, we all turned around and he said..."  
"Sorry, what was he wearing?"  
"A suit, black, with a blue shirt and a light blue tie. He had a beige trench-coat on. Oh, and I think he was wearing black converse."  
"A designer suit?"  
"Mmm, I want to say no, but I don't really know."  
"And a tie and trench-coat, and converse?" she repeated.  
"Ah-hah," I said.  
"And did you know immediately he wasn't a human man?"  
"Oh yeah."  
"How?"

"Well...he was all fuzzy, like he wasn't tuned in properly. And then when he spoke there was this like lightening and we saw the shadows of his wings against the wall..."  
"I thought you said he had no wings?"  
"They weren't visible," I said quickly and slapped my forehead with my hand; I had to keep track of what I was saying cause this could very easily turn into a very huge mess "When he spoke to us, he said that this wasn't his real form, that we couldn't see his real form because we were humans and our eyes would burn..." thank god I had seen season four of Supernatural so many times that I could almost quote it episode to episode "So he'd taken a human form, but the wings were still there, just not visible." I kept my breath as I waited for her to say something, anything would be good at the moment.  
"Was that all he said to you?" she asked curiously and I let a small sigh.  
"No, he said that we shouldn't jump. His voice was deep and soothing. He had like an inner wisdom. You could tell that he was a messenger from God."  
"Did he say that? Or you guessed it?"  
"No I guessed it...But aren't angels like God's employees? So they all must've seen him at some point," I said. To be honest I was having a kick out of this conversation, it was too ridiculous even for me.

"Did he say anything else?"  
"Yes, he said that it wasn't our time yet. He also said that suicide is stupid, that it isn't the answer to anything, and that this was a message he wanted us to spread to the world."  
"And...Do you intend to spread it?"  
"If you'd seen how serious he was when he said it you'd want to spread it too! I'm not taking any risks of him coming back...So yeah, we will, that's one of the reasons we want to do this interview. Oh and from his way of acting I think that things are not all that great up in heaven right now, God is not a happy-bunny at the moment...I think it has to do with the mess that the world leaders and whatnot have created down here..."  
"I'm sure our readers will find that very thought-provoking. And you all saw him?"  
"Oh yeah, he was really hard to miss."  
"Logan Mitchell saw him?"  
"Yes I told you, we all saw him," I said a little snappily, I couldn't understand her fixation with Logan but I really didn't like it.

"So now what?" Lydia asked and I sensed she was irritated by my last answer.

"Well, we've got to work out what we're going to do."  
"Of course. Will you be talking to any other newspapers?"  
"Oh yeah. Definitely."

I was pleased with that. I got her up to five grand in the end. I had to promise that she'd have a chance to speak to everybody though. The others really didn't appreciate that last part.

_Kendall _

At first I had no idea how difficult this interview ordeal was going to be. Ok, yeah, none of us was thrilled that Camille had got us into this angel thing, least of all Logan, but it didn't seem worth falling out over. We'd grit our teeth, screw our faces, say we'd seen an angel, then we'd take the money and pretend that it never happened. But then the next day, you're sitting in front of a journalist, and you're all agreeing with a straight face that this fucking angel looked like Castiel from Supernatural, and loyalty seemed like the dumbest of all virtues. And it's not like we had any time to go through the motions either. You can't just be like "Yeah, blah, angel, blah, blah whatever." Seeing an angel is clearly a big deal, so you have to act like it's a big deal and be excited and all open-mouthed but all we could do was stare blankly at the reporter and then when she mentioned Castiel look at her in disbelief.

From the paper they made sure to get Jo the day off for the evening, because she simply refuse to spent any of her morning hours away from Alex, and we met Lydia in the cafe where we'd had breakfast on New Year's morning. We had our photos taken – mostly group shots, but then for some reason they divided us in two pairs, I was with Jo, and they took a couple more. The worst one was the one we took outside the cafe, where we were all looking at the sky, pointing, and with our mouths slightly open, gazing up in wonder. Logan refused to play nice so he just crossed his arms and looked at us while we made fools of our selves. And then after the shoot, Lydia asked us questions.

She was after Logan, that much was obvious. He was the prize. If she could get him to say that an angel had kept him from killing himself, if she could get Logan Mitchell to say "I'm a wacko- official," she'd a front page story. Logan knew it too. I was really surprised by his performance, it was almost heroic, and I say almost because sitting there and reciting Camille's horrendous story is not something that should be considered like a real act of heroism. During the whole thing Logan had this expression on his face, like he's head was to be chopped off any minute now.  
Camille did all the talking, to begin with, and then Lydia got tired of her, and started asking Logan questions directly.  
"So when the lightening fell, and you saw the wings...Wings, right?"  
"Yup that's right," Camille confirmed shooting Logan a worried glance "Like I said the human form wasn't his real one, but the wings were still there, but they were invisible."  
Logan winced and Camille's hand came to his back. I knew that she secretly wanted to punch him; Logan wasn't convincing he was messing up her story, but she just stroked his back.  
"So when you saw the wings, Logan, what did you think?"

"Think?" he asked as if the word was foreign to him.  
"We ugh...we didn't think much," Jo jumped to his aid "We were too stunned," Logan gave her a grateful smile.  
"That's right," he said to Lydia who just nodded along.  
"Yes but, you must have thought something," she pressed on "Even if it was only 'Bloody hell, I wonder if I could ask him whether heaven is real or not'," she said with a little laugh. Logan just blinked at her.  
"What?"  
"Well, as a surgeon you are surrounded by death..."  
"My license has been taken," Logan reminded her.  
"Still, you were contemplating jumping, didn't you wonder whether there's an afterlife or not?"  
"Ugh...I don't know..."  
"You don't know? C'mon Logan we're all friends here," Lydia said her tone all but friendly.

I couldn't help feeling that she was missing the point of the story. An angel – possibly an emissary from the Lord Himself- had visited a tower-block to stop us all from killing ourselves, and she wanted to know if Logan believed in heaven or not. I don't know man. You'd have thought that would be one of the questions nearer the end of the interview.

"Where are we going with this?" I said "You really wanna write a piece about Logan and his beliefs of heaven, or about our encounter with the angel?"  
"Castiel," Camille said quickly and I didn't even bother to roll my eyes at her.

"Is that what you call him?" she asked "Castiel?"  
"Well, usually we just call him 'The Angel..." Camille started. Lydia smiled at her sweetly.

"Would you mind if Logan answered a couple of questions?"  
"Well, you've asked him loads already," Camille kind of snapped "And he really would love it if you stopped bugging him. And plus, Kendall and Jo haven't said very much."

"Logan's the one that most people will have heard of," said Lydia and Camille glared at her "So Logan, is that what you call him?"  
"Don't say anything," Camille told him when she noticed the look on his face; poor guy he looked happier than this on the night he tried to kill himself "You don't have too," she continued in a lower voice "This whole thing was my idea and..."  
"It's okay," Logan cut her off. Camille didn't believe him. Logan gave a chuckle and touched her hand "It's okay, I'm fine," he said in his most persuasive voice. Camille bit her lip and nodded "Just 'the Angel'," Logan said crossing his arms over his chest.  
"Can I just check something?" Lydia said "You did see him, Logan, didn't you?"

Logan squirmed in his seat. You could tell he was looking in his head for a way out of this without making the story fall completely apart. His eyes darted to the exit door and then to Camille and he fidgeted with the collar of his shirt.  
"Ugh...yes," he gave in, in the end "I saw him all right. He was...he was awesome."  
And like that Logan walked straight into Lydia's trap. Now the public at large were free to poke sticks at him and call him names, and he'd brought it all to himself alone. He could only just sit there and take it.

To me it felt like we were all freaks in a show then. When our friends, and family, and ex-lovers opened their newspapers the next morning, they could come to one of only two possible conclusions: a) we'd all looped the loop or b) we were talking bullshit. Okay, to be fair, there was a third conclusion, we were telling the truth. When we were at Topper's House in New Year's we saw an angel that looked like Castiel from Supernatural, who for reasons best known to himself told us not to jump. But if you want my opinion, no one was going to go for the third conclusion.

You know, just over two years ago, REM's manager came to see The Rush, and asked whether we would be interested to have his company representing us, and we said we were happy with what he had. Freaking REM! Twenty six months ago! We were sitting around this fancy table in the manager's office, and this guy was trying to persuade us to sign up his company. And now...I was sitting around with people like, well you know, after I almost killed myself, trying to pathetically squeeze a few bucks out of someone who was desperate to give it to us, so long as we were prepared to be totally humiliated. One thing the last couple of years has taught me is that there's nothing you can't fuck up if you try hard enough.

My only consolation was that I didn't have any friends and family in UK. Mom and Katie, that's my younger sister by the way, were still back in Minnesota and Carlos...Let's just not talk about Carlos, ok? The only people that knew where I was were some fans but I doubt they were the types to read Lydia's paper. And maybe some of the guys at the pizza place might see a copy lying around but I didn't really care what they thought of me...So that only left Lucy. And if she saw a picture of me looking deranged, then so be it. Do you know why she left me? Because in her words 'I was a lost cause'. What the fuck does this even mean? At that point in time, I thought that it wouldn't hurt her to see how she'd messed me up. In fact, if I could be temporarily invisible, then one of the first things I'd do is put the paper down in front of her and watch her read it.

_Jo_

Even if I wanted to go back to the church again, I knew after that godforsaken interview that I'd never be able to get past the stairs ever again until I was dead. I didn't know exactly what sin I'd committed, but I was sure that sins involving making up angels were mortal.

I still knew that I wanted to kill myself once the six weeks were up. I was busier than I'd ever been, what with all the meetings with the guys, and the press interviews and that did help to take my mind off things. But all that felt like last-minute activity before a big trip, as if I had to get some things done before I went on holiday. That was who I was, then: a person who just waited for the right time to kill herself.

I was going to say that the day of the interview, I started seeing the glimmer of light, but it wasn't like that exactly. It was more as if I'd already chosen what I wanted to watch on TV; and then during a zapping I found this very interesting, very thought provoking film on another channel. I don't know about you, but choice isn't always what I want. You can end up flicking between one channel and another, and not watching properly either programme. That's why I admire people that can handle having a cable.

What happened was that after the interview, I found myself talking to Kendall. He was going back to his flat, and I was heading towards the bus stop, and we ended up walking together.

"That was kind of...hard, wasn't it?" he said and I was surprised, 'cause I thought I was the only one who found it difficult.

"I kind of hate lies, so..." I trailed off. Kendall looked at me and laughed, and then I remembered about his lie "Oh, no offense!" I said quickly "I mean, I lied to, about seeing the angel. And I lied to Alex too...of course then I told her the truth..."  
"You did?" Kendall asked and I nodded "Why?"  
"Because, I hate lies," I said again "And I hate keeping secrets from her...I thought that she should know, and I'll tell her again when the six weeks are up."

"God will forgive you about all those things." Kendall said and I didn't know what to say so we just walked "What would it take to change your mind?" he asked startling me.  
"About what?"  
"About...you know. Wanting to end it all," I looked at him and Kendall stopped walking, and so I halted "Say, God is sitting right there, right in front of you, and the Big Guy is all 'Okay Jo, we like you, but we really want you to stay put, on Earth. What can we do to persuade you? What can we offer you?"  
"God is sitting across from me?" I asked kinking an eyebrow; Kendall nodded "Is he like our angel? Dressed in a suit and a trench-coat?" I asked with a smirk. Kendall rolled his eyes.  
"Just play along," he said.

"Okay...so God's asking me personally?"  
"Yup."  
"Then...if He's asking me personally, He wouldn't have to offer anything," I said shrugging. Kendall frowned.

"Really?"  
"If God Himself wanted me to stay here, how would I be able to refuse? Or ask for something in return?" I said crossing my arms. Kendall laughed and as the wind blew, my hair fell all over my face. I shooed them away and found Kendall staring at me. Again I kinked an eyebrow. He shook his head a little.  
"Ugh, ok then, not God."  
"Who, then?"  
"A sort of...I don't know. A sort of cosmic, you know, President. Or Prime Minister. Like say David Cameron, or Obama. Someone who can get things done. You don't have to do what Obama says without asking for something in return."  
"Can he...make Alex wake up?"  
"Nope, he can only _arrange_ things."

"Mmm...Then, I'd ask for a holiday. Maybe the chance to go back home...Just, some time for myself," I said after a long second.

"Just that?" he asked and I nodded "You're a cheap date," he said and I scoffed narrowing my eyes at him "No, no!" he said alarmed "I didn't mean it like that!"  
"Really?" I leered. Kendall sighed.  
"Yes, really," I didn't say anything "When was the last time you went on a holiday?"  
"Ugh...when I was seventeen? Right before Alex's accident."  
"So almost six years ago?" he asked and I nodded. He whistled a little "Ok, well, as your manager, I'm going to be asking the Big Guy for a holiday a year. Maybe two."  
"Nah, you can't do that," I said teasingly. Kendall took a step towards me.  
"Trust me, I know the market. Cosmic Obama won't blink an eye. C'mon what else?"

"I don't want anything else."  
"No c'mon, it's one in a lifetime chance. You could have anything you want, just ask for it."  
"I guess...a real job...and maybe..." I shut up.

"Maybe?"  
"No nothing...it's stupid, a real job," I said and nodded my head.  
"What kind of a job?"

"I went to drama school, so I guess, I'd like to be an actress," I said and felt my cheeks warming up.

"You want to be an actress?" he asked and I lowered my head, my eyes pinning on my shoes.  
"I know it's ridiculous..."  
"No it isn't," he said hurriedly "I think you'd be great."  
"Really?" I asked beaming at him. Kendall pinned in my eyes and nodded.  
"So, what was the stupid thing?"  
"It was nothing..."  
"Jo," he said in a tone a father would use with his daughter.

"Kendall," I adopted my best mom voice.

"Tell me, it's not like I have any right to judge you," he said. I sighed.  
"Okay...Maybe I'd like a social life. Like with friends and boyfriends and whatnot..." I said with a wave of my hand.  
"Hmm...We can give you friends, I don't know about a boyfriend, you're too young for that," Kendall teased and I huffed in mock anger.  
"We have the same age!"

"Ugh, no you're a year younger," he said looking at me from under his nose. I rolled my eyes.

"Okay then, mister, what would you say? To Cosmic Obama?"  
"Ha...I'm not so sure," he said "Maybe, I don't know... Live the last ten years all over again or something. Never shooting the winning goal, never pissing off number 11, never breaking my knee...Then music wouldn't have screwed up my life, and I would've ended up in an Ivy League college with my scholarship...okay maybe not an Ivy but a good college anyway..."  
"But Cosmic Obama can't arrange that," I reminded him. Kendall gave me a sad smile.  
"No, exactly."  
"So, you're worse off than me, really," I said "Cosmic Obama can do things for me...but not for you?"  
"It would seem so...Although I'm not trying to imply that your life isn't hard or anything..."  
"Relax Kendall, I never thought you were," I said and saw him taking a deep breath. He gave me a nod and we started walking again. I already liked Cosmic Obama more than God but I think I was afraid to admit so to myself.

_Logan_

I didn't even dare to buy the paper the next morning. I woke up and left a note to James that I was going out for a walk. I drove the rented Peugeot to the cemetery and when I got out of the car I took a deep breath. It was always quiet up there, especially early in the morning. It was one of the many reasons I liked being there. I made my way around the tombs, not really hurrying to find the one that I was looking for. I relished at the absolute solitude; being alone was always one of my greatest fears, that's why I'm so grateful that James hasn't given up on me just yet, but sometimes even I enjoyed some Logan time. Especially when I wanted to clear my head. When I found what I was looking for, I sat down on the grass feet crossed and leaned on them with my elbows.

Liam James Mitchell

January 20 2011- January 20 2011

Peggy was the one that insisted we should bury him. I didn't want to. I didn't even want to see the baby. He was alive when they took him out of her, but as the doctors said his heart was too weak and he ended up dying anyway thirty minutes later. I think that's the only reason why Peggy decided to stay here; his tomb, she wanted to feel close to him.  
I must be such a crappy father. I didn't even go to the funeral. I just couldn't bring myself to look at the casket while knowing that my son, my baby that I'd never heard crying, I'd never seeing smiling, I'd never hold in my arms, that the precious little boy that meant so much to me, was lying in there. That he was going to get buried six feet under the earth. I couldn't do it. It's one of the reasons why Peggy hates me so much.

I trailed the letters on the marble with my finger and smiled to myself; James was going to be his godfather, I don't even remember what I'd promised to Peggy in order for her to agree with me. Probably something that I never ended up doing anyway. I always knew that if I had a son his middle name would be James; it would be a way to show to James how much his friendship meant to me. I was always crap at talking about my feelings, but nothing says 'I love you bro' more than naming your first kid after him, right?

My mobile buzzed in my pocket and I took it out to see Camille's name flashing on the screen. I smiled a little down at the tomb.  
"Sorry kid, I gotta take this," I said and picked it up, I knew that Liam would understand "Good morning," I said.

"Good morning? Are you high or something?"  
"Why would I be high at nine in the morning Camille?"  
"Because you just said 'good morning'! Haven't you read the paper?" she asked. I sighed "I'll take that as a no."  
"That would be a correct assumption. Is it bad?"  
"It's worse."  
"Hit me," I said and pinched the bridge of my nose.  
"Well, first of all, the article concentrates on you..."  
"I'd seen that coming," I admitted.  
"I hadn't," she whispered and I barely heard her "It says some really awful not real staff Logan," her voice was still low "She barely even mentioned Kendall, Jo and me...It's all about you and how crazy..." she stopped and I heard her sniffling "I'm so sorry Logan," she said and her voice was thick; like she was crying.

"C'mon Camille, this is not your fault," I said. Camille scoffed.  
"How can you say that? I was the one that pressed you about this stupid interview! I should've never done that Logan, you were right I'm so stupid."  
"Hey, c'mon, calm down," I said ripping out a blade of grass, and then I started turning it between my thumb and forefinger "You couldn't have known that this would turn up the way it did."  
"Why are you being so nice to me?"  
"Because," I said and paused for emphasises "You were trying to do something good; get some money for Kendall and Jo that they really needed. And the 'don't suicide because it's a bad thing to do' is a good message that should be spread..."  
"But..."  
"The fact that Lydia managed to turn the whole story around and make it all about me and how crazy I'm after spending three months in prison because I slept with a minor, isn't something that you could've foreseen...and I don't blame you about it."

"So," Camille said after a minute of silence "You only stayed in prison for three months?" she asked genuinely interested and I laughed.  
I had many other phone calls that morning – one from my old Chief of Medicine from my old hospital, saying that if things were as bad as the papers made them I should seek out help. One from Peggy saying that she knew I was crazy but not that crazy – I'm proud to admit that I managed not to curse once during that brief call. And even one from my parents.  
I hadn't talked to them in nearly a year, when I called to tell them about the divorce and the trial and...Well you know everything else that went wrong in my life. I remember that they hadn't been very amused.  
"Logan is it true?" my mother breathed in my ear.  
"What's true, Mom?"  
"Did you try to kill yourself? Did an angel stop you?"  
"Who told you that?"  
"Is it true Logan?" my father's voice boomed through the device.  
"Am I on speaker?"  
"Yes son, now answer your mother's question."  
"She first needs to answer mine."  
"Listen here young man..."  
"Dad, just stop!" I yelled and my voice echoed throughout the cemetery, it was a nice thing that I was alone "Who told you that, Mom?" I asked again.  
"Peggy called," fucking Peggy! Why couldn't she just hate me from a distance? Why couldn't she mind her own fucking business?  
"Of course she did," I growled to myself.

"Logan..."  
"Dad it's true," I said. I heard my mother sobbing and I pressed the grass so tight between my fingers that it turned into mush. I tossed it away and picked another one out.  
"Did you really, see an Angel?"  
"What? No Dad! That was a lie of course," I said shaking a little my head.  
"So you just tried to kill yourself?"  
"Yes..."  
"Why Logan?"

Now how was I going to explain something like that to a man that barely knew me? Don't get me wrong, my Father loved me and so did my Mom, i knew that. But while I was growing up they were never there. Work came always first to them and I was a close second. And when I turned ten they decided to take a divorce and they didn't even bother to inform me. One night I just noticed that Dad wasn't home for dinner and when I asked why my Mom said that he wouldn't be coming back.  
"How come you two are calling from the same phone?"  
"We were worried about you."  
"That's not really what I asked Mom," I said exasperated. The last time that my parents had been willing in the same room was the night of my wedding.

"We wanted to call you together...and you never answered my question son."  
"It's complicated Dad, not something that I can really explain over the phone."  
"Will you come visit? Over the summer, maybe?"  
"Yeah, maybe," I didn't even know if I was going to be alive in the summer.

I looked at the sun and sighed.

"Now you see Liam, screwing up, is something very easy to do," I said eyeing my son's tombstone "Sometimes, you manage to do it without even knowing it."  
I spent at least an hour in the cemeteries with Liam every week. Hey, father-son bonding is something very important that I didn't want to miss out on, even if my son couldn't really bond with me because he was dead. I knew that it was my way of coping with what happened; being there, talking to him. I wasn't delusional; I knew that Liam was gone and that nothing could bring him back, but it eased the pain a bit. Mind you, only a very, very small bit.

"I knew I would've found you out here," I heard James' voice from behind me and I shot him a look over my shoulder; he was patting his hair looking with disdain around him "Humidity is so not good for my hair," he said grumpily.  
"Don't be paranoid James, the humidity is on normal levels," I said. I heard a scoff.  
"Oh yeah? Say that to my hair, mister."  
"James," I groaned "I didn't ask you to come over, did I?" James walked over to me.

"No you didn't," he agreed. I patted the ground next to me and James made a face. I rolled my eyes.

"Do you want me to take my jacket off for you to sit on?" I asked half-sarcastically half-seriously.

"No! It's leather, you'll ruin it!" James said quickly looking fearfully at the black jacket I was wearing.  
"Then sit your ass down," I said a bit rudely. James reminded me of a dog; you know how they go round and round on their beds for around two minutes before they finally sit down with their legs folded underneath them, yeah James did the exact same thing.

"There, happy now?" he said glaring at me. I looked at him.  
"Freaking ecstatic," I deadpanned.

"You didn't read the paper," James said and I shook my head negatively "I'm gonna sue them."  
"No you won't."  
"Oh but I will!"  
"She didn't write anything wrong okay?"  
"You didn't read the paper Logie, it was wrong all right."  
"Look, I told her that I saw an angel, ok? If she decided that I'm out of my freaking marbles that's because I had a straight face on while telling her that the reason I got off Topper's House was an angel that looked like Castiel from Supernatural."

"Really, he looked like Cas?" James asked frowning. I looked at him in disbelief.  
"There was no angel James, it's just a story that Camille came up with."  
"Yeah, I knew that," James said after a while.  
"Aha," I agreed "So you can't sue her, she just wrote what she believes is the truth."  
"Yes but she's wrong."  
"Well, that's freedom of speech for you," I said shrugging.  
"So we aren't suing?"  
"Nope," James sighed.  
"You're too nice for your own good Logie," he muttered shaking his head.

"No I'm not...I'm just trying to be fair."  
"Sure, tell yourself whatever helps you sleep at night," James said. We remained silent for a while "Hey Loges?"  
"Yeah Jamie?"

"Do you remember that I told you that Gustavo wanted me to be the host in his new life-style talk-show?"  
"Yeah, but you said no because you're an actor," I said and he swallowed.  
"Yeah...only this morning he forced the job on me," he said and I frowned.  
"He can't do that," I said.  
"But he did. He said 'You're on at five, dog, don't be late,' and then he hung up," James said. I'll tell you only one thing about Gustavo –he's James' manager/boss, he claims he owns James' soul (creepy huh?)- he's nothing but a big, mean, bully. I'm not a fan of the guy.  
"Kelly couldn't help?" I asked and James shook his head pitifully. Kelly was Gustavo's assistant, I couldn't figure out for the life of me why she hadn't resigned already.  
"She said that her hands were tied; the order came from Griffin himself," James said and shivered at the mention of Griffin's name. Ah, Griffin...He is Gustavo's boss. I met him once when James was dwelling whether or not he wanted to work for him; he said that I was to help James decide, and that Griffin himself should be pleased with James' decision 'or else...'. I didn't like the 'or else' and I only started breathing normally after James had signed the contract.  
"Tough luck buddy," I said sympathetically. James swallowed again.  
"He wants you on the show," he said quickly and then shut his eyes afraid of my reaction.  
"What?"  
"He...he wants you, and Kendall, and Jo, and Camille, on the show. As guests."  
"Oh, no, no, no! James you can't do this to me!"  
"Logan, I don't have a choice!"

"Tell him that we refused! Tell him that Camille refused, drop her father's name, and will see what's going to happen! Better say...don't drop her father's name, let him go over. I will be right there with pop-corns watching her while she puts him in his place," I said with a satisfied grin.  
"What makes you think she won't agree?"  
"I just know that she won't."  
"Really? Because she was willing to make up an angel story for five thousand pounds divided to four...Something tells me she won't pass of the opportunity to get five thousand pounds only for herself," James said and my eyes widened.

"Five thousand pounds, each?" James nodded. Camille was going to say yes, there was no question about that. A chance to make ourselves look like fools on live television, and five thousand pounds? How could she say no to that?

"You know, sometimes, I hate you," James laughed.  
"Yeah, I love you too Logie."

The RCMCBT Globalnet Sanyoid channel, or else Griffins' channel as I preferred to call it since I could never remember that freakishly long name, was this huge building in downtown London. It was thirty stores high, had more than one hundred studios, employed more than seven million people (most of them working for Griffin himself), and earned him like two billion pounds a month! Okay, so the numbers could be slightly exaggerated, but they aren't too far from the truth. Jo's eyes got wide open once we got inside, the place looked like a five star hotel or something, Kendall tried to hide how impressed he actually was but Camille couldn't give a fuck about the building itself.  
"Okay, so you have your story about the angel checked, right?" James asked the four of us. Camille nodded.

"We call him Castiel, he wore a black suit and a trench-coat, and he had invisible wings," Camille said. James bit on his lip and nodded along.  
"Good good, we're on at five," he said and hurried away.

So what happened when we actually walk on stage? Kendall said that the angel looked like Kurt Cobain, and that he wore a promotional T-shirt for Sandra Bullock's film 'While You Were Sleeping'. Camille, who'd happened to see the film on TV, was able to synopsize it at a considerable length, white James did everything he could in order not to start pulling his hair out. Then Camille said 'fuck off' and waved apologetically at the camera.  
"Ugh, guys, we're here about the angel," I said afraid to look at James.  
"What angel?" Kendall asked with a smirk and I felt like punching him.  
And then Gustavo came in roaring like a hungry dinosaur or something and literally chased us out. With a baseball bat in hand. When James came home that night his hair was all messy, his shirt was all wrinkly and was missing a button, and his expression was blank. He told me that Gustavo had been screaming at him for two hours straight, while chasing him with the bat. And then Griffin came in and said that the twenty minutes of the show that aired made higher numbers that all the other shows of the day combined, and that they were going to play it again on Sunday.  
"So...you're stuck with the show?" I asked as he gazed vacantly at the wall opposite us.  
"Apparently," he said and I nodded "But you're never, ever, ever again invited okay?"  
"Okay, I can live with that," I said clapping him on the back. James leaned his head on my shoulder and five minutes later he was dead to the world and I was left thinking if our situation could get any worst.

**A/N: Yup, I managed to mix up btr and supernatural! Am I great or what? Did you like the chapter? Let me know! **


	9. Sun and Cinnamon

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the series, not the group, and definitely not Nick Hornby's book; I just based the story on it. **

**A/N: This is a longer chapter...And I have to say that I really like it. **

Chapter 9

Sun and Cinnamon

_Camille_

Someone should write a song or something called "They fuck you up, your Mom and Dad." And it should go 'They fuck you up, your mom and dad. They make you feel fucking bad." Because that's the truth, you know? Especially your Dad, that's why he gets the rhyme. He wouldn't like me saying this, even though he knows that it's the truth, but if it wasn't for Aria and me, no one would have known him. I mean, it's not like the reporters usually stake out the houses of the High Court Judges because their lives and personalities are oh so interesting. No. But they did stake out our house, because Aria went missing. So that's how everyone found out about Dad.

Most people have a rope that ties them to someone, and that rope can be short, or it can be long (Be long, belong, did you get that?) You don't know how long, though. You don't have a choice on it; you cannot extend it or make it shorter. Jo's rope ties her to Alex and it's about six inches long and it's killing her. Logan's rope ties him to James, and I think he just cannot really see it, so he thinks that he doesn't have a rope, so he goes running off, like up a building for example, and then suddenly it brings him up short and chokes him and he acts all surprised. And then he does the same thing again, and again, and again...I think Kendall is tied to this Carlos dude that he's always talking about, the one he used to be in the band with, but just like in Logan's case, I don't think he knows it.

And I'm learning that I'm tied to Aria. Not my mom, not my dad, not my house. Not in any place or person to where or whom I should be tied to. Aria thought she was tied to mom and dad, I'm sure of it. She felt safe, because she was a kid with parents, so she kept walking, and walking, and walking, until she walked off a cliff. Or into the desert of Texas with her beautiful husband. She thought she'd get jerked back by the rope, but it wasn't there, so she wasn't. She learned that the hard way. So I'm tied to Aria now, but Aria isn't solid, like a house. She's floating...blowing around and I'm a person without an anchor to keep her on this Earth.

Anyway, I don't think I own anything to my Mom and Dad. Mom understands that, even if sometimes she gets delusional and starts begging me to go back home...She's still a mess because of Aria, and she hates Dad. Sometimes I think she even hates me because I look like Aria. But Dad...he really thinks that he's entitled to something. And sometimes I'm grateful about it, I feel overwhelmed because at least he hasn't given up on me, but sometimes I just want to scream and kick him.

We weren't in the papers for long after all. We made on more chunk of money, from a new Channel 4 chat show. We decided to not muck it up this time, but the reporter was really nosey and she made Jo feel uncomfortable. And since I'm the 'bully' of the gang, I snapped and told her we'd made it all up to get some cash, and she told us off, and all these stupid brain-dead old bags in the audience mooed us. And that was it; no one wanted to talk to us afterwards. We were left to entertain ourselves. It wasn't too hard, I had lots of ideas.

For example; it was my idea that we met for a coffee regularly –either at the hospital, because Jo still refused to not spent every freaking minute of her morning there, or somewhere in Islington after Jo's shift ended. Logan, of course, didn't like my idea. Or at least that's what he said but I'd gotten pretty good at reading people over the years and I knew that he was just being a jackass for the kicks of it. First he wanted to know what 'regularly' meant, you see Logan has commitment issues, even when it comes to freaking coffee dates. So that conversation went somewhat like this:

"Oh yes, I get it," I said sarcastically putting the phone between my ear and shoulder as I slipped in my shoes "Because what, with your wife, and the hospital, and all those patients, you really can't find some time to spend with us, I totally get it," I said and rolled my eyes even though he couldn't see me. I heard him sighing; he does that A LOT by the way.

"It's not a question of time," he said and I raised an eyebrow.  
"But?"  
"It's a question of choice."  
"Oh, so you just don't want to spend time with us?" I asked kinda irritated.  
"Yes...No! That's not what I said!"  
"Then what did you say?"  
"I don't..."  
"Logan," I cut him off "You agreed on this," I reminded him.

"So?"  
"So, what's the point of agreeing, if you're not going to go through with it?"  
"No point," he deadpanned and I smiled because that's what I'd told him back on the rooftop, but I my tone was snappy when I replied,  
"You think you're so funny, don't you?"  
"I do. In fact I think I'm hilarious," he said and I could almost hear the smile in his voice. But as I said already, he was just being a jackass for the kicks of it, so of course he agreed on it.  
Then we couldn't seem to decide where we'd meet. I wanted to go to Starbucks, because of the frappuccinos, but Kendall said he wasn't into global franchises, and Logan had read in some magazine or whatever, about a snooty little coffee bar in between Essex Road and Upper Street where they grow their own beans. He was really excited while talking about it and so to keep him that way, we met up there. As it turned out, the place had changed its name and vibe. The snobbishness hadn't worked out, so it wasn't snobby any more. It used to be called Tres Marias, I have no idea why, but now the name was changed to Captain Coffee. But even with all the changes that it went through it was still empty.

We walked in and there was this dude wearing an old arm uniform, and he saluted us formally and said.

"Captain Coffee, at your service."  
"Jesus," Logan whispered under his breath and started to make a beeline for the exit but Kendall grabbed his arm and dragged him back. I think Kendall was enjoying himself but not nearly as much as Captain Coffee who looked like he hadn't seen any customers in aeons. But the place was so small; there were like three tables, and each table was only six inches away from the counter, where Captain Coffee was leaning listening to everything we said.  
Logan was shooting careful glances at the dude and Kendall was trying not to smile. Jo shook her head a little at the guys' antics but I just smiled; it almost felt like we were normal. But we weren't, and exactly because of who we were and what had happened to us, we wanted to talk about personal things, so it was embarrassing him just standing there. Logan almost inhaled his coffee and then stood up and promptly ran out. And that's why we ended up going to Starbucks for our coffee meetings.

The book thing that was all Logan's idea. Kendall was so quick to jump in that at first I thought they'd come up with it together or something. The point was to talk about something else, and not to get into rows about who was an ass and who was a prat, which was how the afternoons in Starbucks usually ended up. We decided that our little book club would be consistent of books that were written by authors that killed themselves. Kendall pointed out that we should maybe concentrate on people that hadn't, that maybe we'd learn a thing or two about why we should stay alive and why life is so great, and no why topping yourself is the only solution. But it turned out there were like a billion writers who hadn't killed themselves, and only four or five that had. So guess which pile we chose. We voted on using funds from our media appearances to buy ourselves the books.

It turns out that deciding on the small pile wasn't such an easy option after all. Freaking hell! You should try and read the stuff that people who've killed themselves wrote. We started off with something that Logan called 'light' by Virginia Woolf, and I only managed to get through the first two pages of this book about a lighthouse. But even those two pages were enough to understand why she'd killed herself; Virginia Woolf committed suicide because she couldn't make herself understood. I sort of identify myself with her because I sometimes have the same problem, but at least I didn't go public with it.

Between the three of us that hadn't already read the book- meaning myself, Jo and Kendall, Kendall was the only one who thought it was brilliant. So I just looked at him incredulously when he voiced his opinion.  
"You liked this thing?" I asked looking at the paperback book in my hands.  
"You didn't?"  
"No! What is there to like? I couldn't make heads from tales..."  
"That's not so surprising," Kendall muttered under his breath and I glared at him heatedly.  
"Ugh, maybe we should just decide which book we should read next and not comment on this one," Logan said quickly trying to defuse the situation and Jo agreed with a nod but I wasn't having any of it.  
"Aw Kendall," I cooed and saw him straightening on his seat "Is it because you didn't really go to school? Is that why you think all books are great, even when they're shit?"  
"I did go to school," Kendall said his voice even but his eyes were furious "I remember telling you that, am I wrong?" he asked but no one responded. He looked at Logan who nodded, then he looked back at me "But why didn't you like it Camille? Is it because daddy reads too many books and has no time for you?" he asked and I scoffed.  
"Oh please! I doubt my father even knows what's the title on half of the books he has in his office."

"Why did you even suggest starting a book club?" Kendall snapped at Logan who jumped on his seat. His eyes were wide as he looked at the blonde sitting next to him.  
"Kendall calm down," Jo admonished but Kendall didn't pay any mind to her.  
"I just thought that it would be something that we could do..." Logan muttered and Kendall huffed, tossed his book on the table, and crossed his hands.  
"Well with Camille in the group I doubt that this will have a happy ending. I mean it's the first book and she already ruined it."  
"I didn't ruin anything," I defended myself "If a book is shit, I'll say so."  
"Yeah, but you're gonna say they're all shit," he said accusingly glaring at me "Because you're so fucking contrary."  
"Yeah and you're gonna say they're all great, because you're such a creep!" it was my turn to start raising my voice. Logan opened his mouth to say something and I glared at him so he shut it again.  
"But they are all great!" he said and then started going off about all these people that we were supposed to be talking about in the club- Sylvia Plath, Primo Levi, Hemingway...

"What's the point of even reading all these books if we already know they're great?"  
"Camille," Logan interjected leaning on the table "This is not a reality-show, you don't vote for the best one."  
"Well, if this is anything to go by," I said and tossed my book like Kendall had already done "Then I don't accept they're all great. In fact, I accept the opposite."

"Okay, ok enough!" Jo said once Kendall started replying "Enough," she repeated "These books are not for everyone Kendall, you cannot expect everyone to love them," she said looking at the man sitting to her right.  
"But..."  
"No, no 'buts'. I know that they're probably great, but they're not for all tastes. So I think, that we should probably stop reading them."  
"And what should we do instead?" Logan asked.

"I don't know," Jo shrugged "Maybe we could have a go with musical suicide instead?"

I know that people don't believe this, but I do think. It's just that my way of thinking is different from everyone else's. Before I think I have to get really angry and maybe a bit violent, which I can see is sort of annoying to other people. But afterwards I always have some sort of epiphany. Anyway, that night, in bed, I thought about Kendall, and what he'd said about how I hated books because my Dad read them. And Dad did read them; I mean at least he pretended to do so as a part of his job. But that's not the reason why I hated them.

Aria was a reader. She loved her books, but they scared me. They scared me when she was around, and now that she isn't they scare me more. What was in them? What were they saying to her when she was unhappy and she didn't listen to her parents, or her friends, or her sister? I got out of bed and went to the room next to mine. Before Aria's disappearance we visited dad at least once a month, because he claimed he missed us, so both Aria and I had a room in his house, just like we had a room back in Connecticut. In it nothing was changed. You know when I was little and I saw a film where there was a dead kid and his room was left untouched I always found it cheesy but I get it know, if you think so as well, try going in there and fucking everything up.

They were all there: _The secret history, Catch-22, to kill a Mockingbird, The catcher in the Rye, No Logo, The bell jar (_which coincidently, or maybe not, is a book that Logan had lined up for us to read)_, Crime and Punishment, 1984..._

I don't think I was ever going to be a big reader. But I never abhorred reading as much as I do now, after Aria put me off it with her disappearance. It wasn't the first time I'd been in her room, and it wasn't going to be the last one either. And the books were there, like always, looking at me as I looked at them, and what I hate the most is that I know that one of them holds the answer as to where she's. I don't mean a highlighted sentence that would give me an actual clue, although I'd looked for it a while ago. I just mean that if I read everything that was in there, everything that she loved, then I'd get some picture of where her head was. But I haven't read them, and I know that I never will. They just sit there, looking at me, day after day and one day, one day I know I'll put them all in a big pile and burn them.

_Kendall_

Camille was right about me. That's why I got so pissed at her. If it weren't for Logan and Jo being there, I don't know what I could've done. But she was right, how could she not be? I've spent my whole life with people who don't read, and it makes you really defensive after a while. How many times can you be called a fag and not react? Not that I mind being called that, or that I have anything against them or anything, but to me being a fag is about whether you like guys, no whether you like Don DeLillo- who admittedly is a guy, but I don't like him because he has a nice ass, I like him because of his books. Why does reading freak people out so much? Sure I could be pretty unti-social while on the road, but if I was playing video games no one would be on my case.

Carlos was always the worst. We knew each other for so long, that we were like a married couple. And every night I picked up a book it was like my way of telling him that i had a head ache. And like a marriage, the longer we were together, the worse everything got. We knew we weren't going to make it, as a band and as friends, and so we were both panicking. It was eating us from inside out. Me reading made Carlos panic more, he had this stupid idea that reading was going to help me find some sort of a new career...Like, yeah, that's what happens in life, 'Hey, you like Updike? You must be a cool guy, here's $100,000 job in our advertising agency'. We spent all those years talking about the stuff we had in common, and the last few months noticing all the ways we were different, and it broke both of our hearts.

I don't know what made me think that Jo's suggestion of music was going to be easier. I mean considering I'm a musician, thinking like that wasn't smart. I only have a lot invested in books, but I got my whole life invested in music. Jo had chosen a classic for our first musical suicide date; Joy Division. I personally think that you can never go wrong with Ian Curtis, especially when in a room with depressed people.

We were in Alex's hospital room, seated around the table as the cd played on. I didn't even mind the beeping of the monitors. Curtis voice, his songs...Man! It's like he's boiled down all the melancholy in the world, all the fucked up dreams you've let go, all the bruises, and poured the essence into a little tiny bottle and corked it up. And when he starts to play and sing...it all comes out and it is as if you could smell it. And you're pinned into your seat, like you're afraid to move in case you frighten it away. Joy Division changed people's lives...And in the end of the song Camille was mocking to gag.  
"He's so boring," she said with a grimace.

"I don't really have a problem with him, I like the lyrics," Logan said and Camille looked at him questioningly.  
"What exactly did you like?"  
And once again I wanted to punch her. But a punch would be too quick; there wouldn't be enough pain involved. I'd want to keep hitting her after she was down...It's music rage, which is like road rage, only more righteous. When you get road rage, a tiny part of you knows you're being a jerk. But when you get music rage, you're carrying out the will of God.

"Are you fucking kidding me Camille? Have you got no ears?" I demanded and three pair of eyes turned to me.  
"So you like it too?"  
"And I'm gonna ask again, have you got no ears?" Camille sniggered.  
"See, I told you she's your soul mate, you should totally get married," she said sarcastically.

"Don't pretend to be more stupid than you are," said Jo "Because you're stupid enough as it is," she added with a wiggle of her eyebrows, she was quite steamed. She had the music rage too "Just listen to him for a moment, and stop talking."

And Camille could see that she meant it, and she shut up, and we listened to the whole album in silence, and if you looked at Jo closely you could see her eyes were glistening a little.  
"When did he die?" Logan asked and Jo looked at him.

"Nineteen fifty-six. He was twenty three," she said.  
"Twenty-three," Camille muttered to herself. Hmm, that's right; Curtis was her age when he offed himself.

"Sorry for snapping," Jo said and Camille raised her eyebrows "I mean it. It's just that...people don't want to hear it, do they?" she said. No one said anything, because we weren't sure where she was at "This is how I feel, every day, and people don't want to know that. And they don't play staff like that on the radio; because people that are sad don't fit in," she shrugged a little "It's funny because people think it is Alex that stops me from fitting in. But it's not, it's what Alex makes me feel that stops me fitting in. You get the weight of everything wrong. You have to guess all the time whether things are heavy or light," her shoulders slummed a little, and she took a shaky breath "Especially the things inside you, and you get it wrong, and it puts people off. I'm tired of it."

And so suddenly Jo was like my girl, because she got it. And she felt the music rage too, and I wanted to say the right thing to her.  
"You need a holiday," I blurted out and after a second she let out a throaty laugh and I remembered our conversation about Cosmic Obama, and I realised that now Cosmic Obama had the money.

"Hey, what about that? Why not?" I said and they all looked at me "Let's all take Jo on holiday somewhere," I suggested and Logan burst out laughing.

"Oh..." he said when he saw me glaring "You're not joking?" he asked his voice high-pitched. He toyed with the collar of his shirt "I'm so sorry, Jo. I wasn't being ungallant. I just can't imagine the four of us chilling around a pool somewhere."

"I didn't take any offence, Logan, don't worry," she said and wiped at her eyes, she chuckled a little "It's not like I can see myself relaxing with you guys on the Caribbean or something. But we were talking about this with Kendall the other day...and now he suggested it for real, and it's been so long...I haven't...It was just nice of him, that's all," she said and offered me a huge smile that I returned.  
"Oh fuck," Camille exclaimed crossing her arms and leaning back on her chair, I think Camille had just realised what was going to happen. And like five days later, we were on a plane to Tenerife.

_Jo_

It was their decision. Not mine. That's why when they asked me where I wanted to go I said wherever. I was the one who suggested the holiday in the first place, to Kendall, when we were talking about Cosmic Obama, so I didn't think it was right that I should join in when they took a vote on it.

It wasn't as if there was a big argument anyway. Everyone was all for it. The only debate was about whether to go now or in the summer because of the weather, but really, we didn't even know if we were going to be alive after Valentine's Day, so the decision was pretty easy. The only part that I thought was going to be difficult was to get a week off from the cafe but one day while on my shift Logan stopped by and he started blubbering about this operation that Alex should go through, that it was going to be tough, and that I needed to be there the whole way. I just blinked at him when he said that he was going to go ask the manager to give me the week off. Logan went to the back room and twenty minutes later he came back, a lopsided smile on his face, giving me the thumbs up. And I just chuckled.

It was funny, or maybe not that funny, but up to that point, we hadn't really ever been nice to each other. You'd think that would have been a part of the story, considering how we'd met. You'd think this would be the story of four people who met because they were unhappy, and wanted to help each other. But up until then it had been the story of four people who met because they were unhappy and then swore at each other.

It was a week to Canary Isles, and Camille who'd been there before didn't understand why I was so excited; I didn't want to tell them that I hadn't been on the beach in the last six years.

In the airplane I was sitting in the window seat and Logan was next to me. Right behind us were Kendall and Camille. Logan's seat would jerk forth every now and then when Camille would kick it just to make him turn back and glare at her. We were almost halfway there when we hit turbulence and I yelped. Logan's head turned my way.  
"It's okay," he said reassuringly. I gripped the end of my seat with both hands, so tight that my knuckles turned white.  
"What if the plane falls?" I asked my voice incredibly thin. Logan chuckled a little and reached for my hand. It took him a while to prey it away from the seat but when he did he gave it a squeeze and made me look at him.  
"Plane crashes are not as common as you think they are. And this is nothing, just a turbulence, and not a really shaky one."  
"H-how can you know?" I stuttered a little. Logan smirked.  
"Cause I'm a genius," he said coyly and I scoffed and rolled my eyes at him "What? I am."  
"Yeah, that doesn't mean you can predict the future," I said. Logan chuckled and shook his head a little.  
"We aren't falling Jo, relax," he said. He pinned in my eyes and held our gazes until I nodded.  
"Just...don't let go of my hand," I muttered a bit embarrassed. He didn't.

I turned my head to the window and looked down. I couldn't help but think about my whole life, from the beginning until where I was then, everything I'd done, and everyone I've ever known. But all this thinking made me depressed so instead I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.  
Not having Alex there with me was like I was missing something vital, but also something that had been keeping me behind all along. I could breathe easier, and I could feel myself relaxing more than I'd allowed myself to relax in the past seven years. The most I missed her during that one week was when we hit the turbulence; when I thought that I was going to die and I hadn't said goodbye to her.

We managed not to fall out on the first night. The hotel was nice and clean, and we all had our own rooms and bathrooms. And when I opened the shutters the light poured into the room like a torrent of water through a burst dam, and it nearly knocked me over. My knees buckled for a moment, and I had to lean against the wall. The sea was there too, but it was fierce and strong, like the light; it just sat quiet and blue, and made tine little murmuring noises.

We ate in a seafront restaurant not far from the hotel. I had a nice piece of fish, and the guys ate squid, and Camille had a lobster. I drank three glasses of wine, so I was much gigglier and friendlier than ever. I would like to say this, and I don't care how it sounds: it was the nicest meal I've ever had in my life, and perhaps the nicest evening I've ever had in a while. Is that so terrible, to be so positive about something?

_Logan_

The first evening wasn't too bad. I was recognised once or twice, so Camille went to a small tourist shop and bought a baseball cap and then pressed it over my head, down low so to cover my eyes.

"There, now they won't bother you," she said with a cheerful smile. I groaned a little and adjusted the cap so I could see where I was going.  
"I don't like hats," I whined and Camille offered me a smile.  
"You should, it looks cute on you," she said with a wink and started walking ahead of us. Kendall raised his eyebrows at me and Jo laughed but I just ignored them.

We ate so-so seafood in a tourist trap on the seafront, and the only reason that I didn't complain was because I could see how much Jo was enjoying herself.  
Last time I had a holiday was a couple of months before. James and I went away for a few days after I'd come out of prison, to Majorca. James insisted that I needed a change of scenery and that it would feel nice to be away from Britain for a few days. I wanted to tell him that as long as I was out of prison even the Antarctic Circle sounded nice but I didn't. So I agreed with him and we stayed in this private villa outside Deya, and everything had started out perfect with me thinking I was about to have the awesomest week of my life just hugging out with my best friend, after the worst three months of my life were over. But of course it wasn't like that at all: to describe prison as the worst three months of one's life is like describing a horrible crash as the worst ten seconds. It sounds logical but it isn't, because then you wake up and you find out that your wife is dead, that your legs were crashed so badly that you'll never be able to walk again, and that therefore the worst has just begun.

Prison was humiliating and terrifying, mind-numbing, savagely destructive of the soul in a way the expression 'soul-destroying' can no longer convey. Do you know what the 'Quizzies' are? Neither did I, until my first night in. 'Quizzies' are when the drugged-up psychos hurl questions at each other across the blocks, all of them centred around what the participants would like to see done to the most unpopular and/or celebrated newcomers. I was the subject of a 'quizzies' on my first night but I'm not going to list the quite imaginative and terrifying suggestions of my inmates.

Criminals serve their time, but with all my respect to my friends in B-Wing I wasn't a criminal; I was a doctor, who'd made a mistake, and paradoxically, this meant that I would never serve my time. It was a class issue, and I'm sorry, but there's no point in pretending it wasn't. You see, the other inmates would eventually return to their lives of thieving and drug-dealing and possibly even roofing or whatever the hell it was they did before their careers were interrupted; prison would prove to be no impediment, either socially or professionally. Indeed, they may even find their prospects and social standing enhanced. But you don't return to the middle class when you get out. You don't go back to the hospital to reclaim your job. You don't knock on your friends' doors and tell them that you're free for beer whenever they want. You don't even bother to call your ex-wife.

That holiday with James was the first time I fully apprehended the trouble I was in and the trouble I would always be in. The villa in the end of the road was owned by people we both knew, a couple who ran their own production company and had given James his first job on TV. We ran into them one night in a bar and they didn't even talk to us. One day James came back from surfing fuming and when I calmed him down enough in order for him to be comprehensive he told me that the guy who owned the villa in the end of the road had been there and he'd started talking to him, explaining that the only reason that he and his wife were shunning James out was because they were worried about their teenage daughter. James went on and on about how stupid people could be but it was the first time that I realised that I was a liability to him, even if he didn't see me as one.

So the dinner that first night in Tenerife just made me gloomy. This people that I was with, we had almost nothing in common, if you exclude the fact that we all wanted to commit suicide. They were only talking to me because we were in the same boat – an unseaworthy, shabby little boat, and I could suddenly see that it was going to break up and sink. It was a boat meant for a small lake and we were attempting to sail to fucking Tenerife in it. You'd have to be an idiot to think it was going to stay afloat for much longer.

_Camille_

The next day, we had breakfast together and we agreed that we'd go our separate ways, because we were already kind of sick of each other, until the evening when we were all going to meet up in the hotel bar, have a cocktail and find somewhere to eat. And then Kendall and I went for a swim in the hotel pool and Jo sat there watching us. And then I decided to go out on my own.

We were staying on the north of the island, in this place called Puerto de la Cruz, which was alright. When I came before we were on the south, which is pretty crazy whether it's morning or night but since this was Jo's vacation I didn't mind. I did end up though on one of the craziest streets on our side of the island, and I don't even know how I managed that.

I went into a bar to get something to drink, and I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw a girl who looked exactly like Aria. I'm not exaggerating, when she looked at me and didn't recognize me; I thought she was messing around. That's until I noticed that her eyes weren't quite as round as Aria's and her hair were bleached; Aria would never do that to her hair. Anyway, this girl didn't like me staring at her, so I had to have a few words, and she was English and unfortunately understood those words, so she gave me a mouthful back. If we were back in London I would've probably gotten in a fight with her, but we weren't and I really didn't want to mess up Jo's vacation. So I just left.

I found another bar, quieter, with dimmer lights, and I went in. I sat on a booth and ordered a neat vodka not really considering the fact that I had nothing to eat and that vodka on an empty stomach was going to mess me up. I was still shaken by the encounter; I'd realised that the girl wasn't my sister, but all the feelings that burst through me when I saw her there, before realization hit, they were still all there making me feel like I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. The fact is that I wanted it so much to be her that when it turned out she wasn't I felt lost.

Someone came to my booth then and offered to buy me a drink but I brushed him off. He was persistent but I was curt and so after awhile he gave up and left. I was left alone with my drink, eyeing it up, wondering whether or not I could get drown in it. It tasted funny but at first I didn't thought anything about it; I hadn't had any vodka in a while so I guessed it was normal. But when the world started spinning around me, and my lungs constricted and I felt like I wasn't getting enough air, I panicked. I shot up and ran out of the bar.  
I crossed the street without looking. I heard a few honks but I couldn't care. The moment I was off the road I started dry-heaving. I braced myself against a bench and bend over, trying hopelessly to keep my hair out of my face. When I was done, I crashed on the bench and shut my eyes. I took a deep breath and tried to relax my ever accelerated heartbeats. Someone had slipped something in my drink.  
"Camille?" I heard a familiar voice, a couple of minutes- maybe hours? I don't remember- later but my eyelashes felt like they were weighting a tone and so I didn't open my eyes "Camille? Are you okay?" the voice grew worried, and it was coming from much closer "Camille?" someone was shaking me and I was afraid I'd start vomiting again so I opened my eyes and pulled away.  
"Logan?" I asked squinting. My head was killing me and my gaze was obscured by black patches.  
"Yeah it's me," he still sounded worried. I smiled then because at least I wasn't alone in that state, which if I were would've been bad "Are you okay?" he asked and I felt the tears prickling in the corners of my eyes. I shook my head negatively and Logan scooted closer to me "Did something happen?" he asked and I nodded before I started crying. He pulled me in his arms then and started stroking my back as I sobbed "Shh, it's okay," he whispered in my ear. But it wasn't okay, how could it be okay?  
"Someone slipped something in my drink," I managed to choke out but I don't know if he understood anything because my words were all slurred up "In my drink," I said again swallowing "Someone slipped something."  
"What?" Logan sounded angry now. He pulled me at arms' length and looked me square in the eye "Are you sure about that?" he asked and I nodded. Logan swore through his teeth and I knew that he was ready to go and do something stupid so I clenched onto him like he was a lifeline.  
"Can we just go back to the hotel?" I asked while whimpering. I felt so pathetic at the moment; I couldn't even stop crying.

"Yes of course," he said and his voice was soft "Let's go find a cab...Can you walk?" he asked and I nodded against his neck, although I had no idea if I could or not.  
He stood up first and pulled me on my feet. I wobbled a little and he was quick to wrap one of his arms around my waist to prevent my impending crashing. I leaned all my weight into him as we started walking down the road. I don't know how we got to the hotel, all I know is that one moment I was in the cab, and the next Logan was opening the door to my room. I stumbled inside but he stood by the doorstep.  
"Come in, please," I said my voice small, and scared. Logan hesitated for a second but then walked in and closed the door behind him. I picked up my pyjamas as he sat at the edge of the bed "I'll be back in a sec," I said and, wobbling, I made my way to the bathroom.  
It took my much more than a second. I couldn't even take off my clothes without risking to fall down; it was like my knees were made of jell-o. When I was finally in my nightshirt, I brushed my teeth to get the foul taste out of my mouth. It was only when I got back in the main room and found Logan still sitting there that the realization of what could've happened really hit me; I had been roofied. I was so lucky that I realized it so quickly and that I threw up. If I hadn't then I'd probably ended up fainting and then...

"Shh, it's okay," I don't know at what point I had started crying again. We were sitting on my bed, and once again Logan had his arms around me. I snuggled close to him and cried.

I'm not really a crier. I hadn't cried in well four years, ever since the first night that Aria went missing. So that night everything that had happened to me in the last four years - Aria 'committing suicide', my Mother giving up on me, all my fights with my Dad, my childhood dream washing away because I could concentrate on nothing else other than my sister, my friends alienating me because of my attitude, moving away from my home, my relationship with Steve, my decision to follow on Aria's steps- everything came crashing down on me and I could do nothing but cry my eyes out.

It was well past two in the morning when I finally stopped. My head was aching; it felt like there was a tiny person inside my scull hitting with a mallet the place just above my eyes. I pulled away from Logan and looked up at him with something that I hoped was a grateful smile.  
"Thanks," I croaked. Logan smiled back and pushed a lock of hair away from my face,  
"You're feeling any better?" he asked."  
"Not really," I decided to be honest with him. He nodded.  
"You should probably get some sleep," he said and made a move to get up but I didn't let go of his hand. He looked down at our hands and then up to my face "You want me to stay the night?" he asked and I nodded, causing the room to spin around. I clenched tightly on his hand "Easy, easy," he admonished and slowly pushed me down on the bed with my back. I didn't protest.

"Thanks," I said again as I heard him kicking off his shoes. The bed dipped as he slipped on it. I opened my eyes and found him there, lying on his back.

"All that matters is that you're okay," he said and I scooted closer to him, and he surprised me by not pulling away "You were really lucky tonight," he whispered. I bit on my lip and looked away from his face.  
"I know," I said. Logan turned on his side and pinned on my eyes, and we were so close that I could feel his breath hitting on my cheek. Our hands were almost touching.

"You should be more careful Camille," he said.  
"What's the point? It's not like anyone cares," I said and he squinted a little as he looked at me.  
"That's not true, your dad cares," he said and I knew that he was right. But I couldn't bring myself to care about my Dad.

And then I don't know what went over me, but something definitely did because I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his. He tensed up and I was about to pull away but then his hand came on the back of my neck and held me in place. I was so surprised when he started kissing me back that at first I didn't react. His lips were so soft against mine. He tilted his head on the side deepening the kiss. He tasted like cinnamon and vanilla. When he pulled away I whimpered a little and he quickly pressed another kiss on my lips.

I was still lightheaded, that's the only explanation I can give as to why I did it. I looked at him and smiled, and I think he smiled back but I don't really remember. I snuggled on my pillow then and quickly fell asleep.

The next morning when I woke up I couldn't remember anything –everything that I just told you came back to me a day later when my hangover was over. My head was killing me and my stomach was loudly protesting so I slowly stood up and started getting dressed to go down for breakfast. The bed was all wrinkled and it didn't make sense because it was a double bed and I slept only on the left side of it; I'm a very light sleeper and I don't tend to roll around on the mattress. I narrowed my eyes at the bed but I was too hungry to actually think about it. As I waited for the elevator I tried to remember how I ended up tasting like cinnamon.

_Kendall_

I had a good day, that first day. In the morning I read 'The Sportswriter' by the pool, and that's one fucking cool book. And then I ordered a sandwich and...Well, the truth of the matter is, I thought it was about time to jump-start my libido, which had been on life-support and demonstrating no outward signs of life for like about four or five months. It's not like I went to the pool with the express purpose of doing anything about it. I just thought I'd go for a walk and look around, maybe get back in touch with that side of my life.  
I went back to the room to get dressed first; I'm not really the bare-chested kind of guy. I'm like a hundred and thirty pounds, skinny as shit, white as a ghost, and you can't walk around next to guys with a tan and six-packs when you look like that. Even if you found a chick who dug the skinny ghost look, she wouldn't remember she dug it in this context, right?

So I found this cool salt-water pool in the town, designed by some local artist, and I stopped for a beer and a sandwich right across from there. And this English chick was sitting by herself on the next table, and she was reading this book called Bel Canto, and I told her that I read it too and it was a good book, and so we started talking about it and I scooted over to her table. And from the book we jumped to music and get that- she was actually in one of our lives! Well...she didn't really remember us, we weren't headlining or anything, but she was telling me about this band, the Clockers and we'd done a tour with them a few years back, and she'd been on that tour in Manchester...So anyway I was making good progress with her when something attracted my attention.  
"Jo?" I said doubtfully and sure enough the blonde turned towards me. I tried not to show my surprise but I had never seen Jo in a bikini before so that was quite the task.  
"Oh, hey Kendall!" Jo greeted. Nasha, that's the name of the girl I was chatting up, shot a look at Jo over her shoulder.

"Hey," she said a bit rudely but Jo was trained by Camille so she didn't take it personally.  
"Hey, I'm Jo, I'm a friend of Kendall's," she said extending her hand. Nasha didn't shake it.  
"What sort of friend?" she asked and Jo looked at me questioningly but I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that Jo looked hot in that bikini.  
"Ugh, you know, the usual kind," she said with an awkward smile.

"And what kind would that be?" Nasha pressed on.  
"Wow...Ugh, I just stopped to say hi, I'm gonna go now," Jo mumbled and rushed away. Nasha turned to me, crossed her arms, and glared.  
"What?" I asked confused.  
"Was that your girlfriend?"  
"What? No!"  
"Don't lie."  
"I'm not!" this conversation was surreal.  
"Yes you are."  
"Would she be so cool seeing us together if she was my girlfriend?"  
"Maybe she doesn't like you."  
"Then why hasn't she broken up with me?" see, I'm telling you sur-fucking-real.

"How should I know? She's your girlfriend!"  
"Nasha," I said in an attempt to be reasonable "Jo is not my girlfriend."  
"Yeah right...I saw the way you were looking at her," she said her voice tinted with disgust "Oh and by the way, drooling is not very attractive," she said and pushing back her chair she got up and left.

"What the hell did just happen?" I muttered to myself running a hand through my hair.

I found Jo lounging by the pool in our hotel. She had a white biking on, that made her skin look even more pale and her blond her shinier than it was. She had a hat on, and a pair of dark shades perched on the bridge of her nose. She was smiling pleased as she soaked in the light. Realising I was staring I shook my head and walked up to her.  
"You know, you kind of blew up my date," I said sitting on the lounge next to hers. Jo lowered her glasses and looked at me.  
"How did I do that?" I opened my mouth to tell her exactly how, but then I shut it. Jo hooked an eyebrow.  
"I...have no idea yet, but I'll figure it out. It was totally your fault," I said. Jo smirked. She sat up and took her hat off.  
"Was your girlfriend jealous?"  
"She wasn't my..."I started but then I shut up because Jo had stood up and she was too close to me and I couldn't concentrate. Okay what was wrong with me? It's not like I hadn't seen a hot girl before! And it's not like Jo usually made my breath hitch on my throat.

"Everything okay there Kendall?" she asked coyly.  
"Perfect," I said my voice an octave higher. Jo chuckled and sauntered towards the pool.

"C'mon in, it's nice," she said splashing some water to me. I pointed down to myself.  
"I'm dressed," I said as if it wasn't clear enough.  
"You're just wearing a shirt over you swim truck," she said rolling her eyes. And she was right too, I had forgone turning into my jeans. I didn't protest all that much to be honest.  
"So," I said once I was in the water with her "What's up?"

"What's up?" she asked back.

"You seem...different," I said and she narrowed her eyes.  
"Good different, or bad different?"  
"Just different," I said. Jo waited for me to continue "Last night at dinner you talked much more than normal, and now you are being all..." I trailed off.  
"All?" she pressed.  
"Flirty," I said and she blushed; there was the Jo I was used too.

"Well last night I was drank, and when I'm drank I blubber, a lot," she said, and flicked the water with her fingers "And...I'm not trying to be flirty; I'm just trying to relax..."  
"So, this is you being relaxed?" I asked and she bit on her lip while nodding "Hmm, quite the improvement," I said and she splashed some water at me.  
"Shut up," she ordered while chuckling.  
"And if I won't?" I challenged.  
"If you won't..." she trailed off and came closer to me "Then you'll see the bottom of this pool up close," she taunted.  
"Oh really?"  
She wasn't joking. For such a small person Jo was too strong, and she was too sneaky. She used everything to her advantage; the pool, the sun, some by-passers. But mostly her own self, her body. Jo while relaxed was confident, and I found out that I enjoyed this side of her a lot. So I did end up coming face to face with the bottom of the pool.  
"That was..."  
"Magnificent?" she asked cheekily tossing me a towel.  
"I was going for devious, but your word works too," I said and she gave me a little bow. She plopped back down on her lounge and I did the same.

We ended up spending the afternoon together, and then we blew off the family dinner, and we spent the evening together. We went out for a drink on this salsa place; I don't remember the name of it but it was a cosy little place. Jo ordered a margarita and I took a beer.  
"Beer? Really?" she asked and I shrugged.  
"It's always the safest choice," I said and she rolled her eyes.  
"Men," she muttered to herself. When her drink came Jo took a sip and groaned happily "Mm, I forgotten that alcohol can taste good," she mused to herself and I chuckled.  
"Tell me a couple of things about you," I said and she looked at me.  
"Like what?"  
"Like I don't know..." I said and she played with the little umbrella on her drink.  
"Okay, you already know that I have awesome taste in music," she said and I nodded.  
"That I do."  
"Let's see...My favourite colour is purple, I love dogs, my favourite food is French fries..."  
"French fries isn't food," I interjected.  
"Is too!"  
"It's a snack."  
"It's food."  
"Snack."  
"Food."  
"Snack."  
"Food!"  
"Snack."  
"Snack."

"Food...hey!" I exclaimed a little too late. Jo gave me a smug grin.  
"So my favourite **food** is French fries. My favourite book is East of Eden," she twirled a lock of her hair between her fingers "Ugh...oh! My favourite movie franchise is Star Wars!"  
"Get out of here."  
"I won't. I've watched every movie enough times to know it by heart," she said defensively. I leaned on the table and pinned in her eyes.  
"The fear of loss is a path to the Dark Side," I quoted. Jo smiled and nodded.  
"Yoda, Revenge of the Sith," she said and I looked at her impressed "Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering."  
"Pff, too easy," I said and she crossed her arms "Yoda, The Phantom Menace. Who's the more foolish: the fool, or the fool who follows him?"  
"Mmm...I know that it's from New Hope," she muttered and started stabbing her drink with her straw "And it's probably...Obi Wan Kenobi?" she questioned pulling a face. I laughed and nodded "Yes! I knew it! I'm amazing!" she sing sang.  
"You're good kid, don't get cocky," I deadpanned.  
"Sure, Han, whatever you say," she said and started giggling.

"What is the best movie of the franchise?" I asked and Jo blinked at me.  
"The empire strikes back, duh," she said in a way that reminded me of Camille.  
"Okay you must be like, the coolest girl I've ever met," I said and her cheeks blushed furiously.  
"Thanks, but you don't have to say that," she said her head falling forward, her hair creating a curtain.  
"But I mean it," I said a little defensively. Jo dared a look on my face and smiled.  
"Thanks," she said again "Oh! I love this song," she said looking up. She started dancing on her stool and I smiled.

"M'lady," I said extending my hand towards her, Jo hooked an eyebrow "Do you care to dance?" I asked. Her face broke into a huge smile.  
Talking brings people closer. And so does flirting, and drinking. And we had been doing all that the whole day. But what ultimately really brought us closer was dancing. I had never seen Jo so full of energy before; she always looked like she was worn out. But as we walked at the small circular space that was designed for dancing, she transformed into another person. This other Jo was oozing with confidence. She was shinning like a star as she moved along with the sound of the music, tugging at my arm and forcing me to join her. One of her own arms came around my neck and we started dancing together. She tried to teach me how to dance salsa but it was like I had two left feet and I almost knocked her down. She burst into laughs and said that it was okay.

It was well past midnight when we got back to the hotel. Jo had downed two margaritas and she was wobbling a little but she could still walk on her own and speak at the same time so everything was okay really. I walked her to her room and we were saying good night when Jo looked into my eyes and the intensity in her gaze floored me. Something came over me at that moment and I framed her face between my hands pressing my lips on hers hard. At first I thought that she was going to pull back, even slap me but she didn't.  
Her hands came on my arms and she held on as she opened her mouth and deepened the kiss. I groaned against her lips and Jo came closer to me, her death grip stopping the blood flow in my hands. When the lack of oxygen became a problem I pulled away. Her warm honey-coloured eyes had darkened considerably, she was panting and her lips were all swallowed and she looked so damn hot at that moment in the dim lighting and that light blue dress.

Jo tiptoed and once again brought her lips on mine, her arms circling around my neck. My arms came around her waist and pulled her against me. Jo made a whimpering sound and I started walking forward, pushing her backwards, into the room. I kicked the door close and pulled away from her mouth. Another whimpering sound emitted from her that was soon silenced as I started kissing her jaw line. Jo's small hands sneaked under my t-shirt.  
"Are you sure about this?" I whispered in her ear.

"Shh, shut up," she ordered and tagged the shirt off me. I didn't complain.

A/N: Wow, things change during holidays, huh? What did you thought of the chapter? Good? Bad? Horrible? Let me know!


	10. The Reunion

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the series, not the group, and definitely not Nick Hornby's book; I just based the story on it. **

**A/N: Hey guys! Wow I can't believe that this story is really on chapter 10! And it has almost 1,000 views which is great! Thanks to everyone who has commented and has put it on alert or favoured it! Really it means a lot to me! P.S the worst part of this chapter was coming up with a title, I mean I spent half an hour on it alone...and as you can see it's not that imaginative...anyway! **

Chapter 10

The reunion

_Jo_

While on vacation I learned two things; sex always complicates everything and Alex would be fine, even if ended up killing myself. When I woke up Kendall was still sleeping. He had a death grip on his pillow as he lied on the right side of my bed. He'd kicked off the covers that were now lying haphazardly on the floor. He was rolled on his side, facing me, his lips slightly parted as his eyes moved under his closed lids while he dreamed. I tried to be as silent as I could; I had no desire to wake him up. Or talk to him. At least not right then and there. I managed to get up, slip in my clothes and out of the room without causing him to even stir.

At the breakfast table I was alone. It was early, so I didn't expect to find Camille there, but the previous day Logan had been down there waiting when I made my way over, and it was much earlier. I didn't think a lot about it, I had more pressing matters to ponder about. But those other matters made my stomach turn and caused my face to blush and my hands to get all sweaty. It was like I was seventeen again. And I can't say I liked it.

After breakfast I decided to call at the hospital, check up on Alex. The other's had told me I could call once a day, whatever the expense; otherwise, they said, I wouldn't relax properly. And that call...Well it changed pretty much everything. Just those two or three minutes. More happened to me in my head during the call than during all the time up on the roof. And it wasn't as if there was any bad news, or any news at all. Alex was fine, as fine as she could be. The nurses were taking good care of her, and really there wasn't much else they could tell me, was there? I tried to make the conversation last longer, and, fair play to him, the nurse tried to help me make it last longer. But neither of us could think of anything to say; Alex doesn't do anything in the course of a day.

So I thanked him and put the phone down and thought for a moment, and tried not to feel sorry for myself. Love and concern and the rest of it, the things that only I could provide to her...For the first time since she'd ended up in the hospital, I could finally see that those things were no use to her anyway. The point of me was exactly the same as the point of the nurses. I was probably still better at it than they were, because of the practise I'd had. But I could've taught them all they'd need to know in a couple of weeks.

What that meant was that when I died, Alex would be fine. And I didn't know whether I wanted to kill myself more or less, knowing that. I didn't know whether my whole life, post Alex's accident had been a total waste of time or not.

I went downstairs and I saw Camille in the lobby.

"Logan's checked out of the hotel," she said.

"He did what now?"  
"He checked out. He packed up and left," she said and I crossed my arms over my chest.  
"What did you do this time Cam?" I asked and she raised her eyebrows at the nickname but didn't comment on it.  
"I didn't do anything," she said defensively.  
"Aha," I said condescendingly and turned to leave.  
"Where are you going?"  
"For a walk," I said with a shrug.

"Shouldn't we like, look for him?"  
"I don't know, should we?"  
"I think that maybe..."  
"Look, Cam, honestly, right now, I don't care."

And I turned around and left. Because I didn't care. If it wasn't for the phone call I would have, because he was in charge of our money. But if he'd gone off with the money, it wouldn't matter much, would it? I'd stay there, or not, and I'd eat, or not, and I'd drink, or not, and go home, or not, and what I did or didn't do wouldn't matter to anyone at all.

And then I remembered of Kendall. Kendall who thought that I needed a holiday and made it happen. Kendall who made me laugh and feel confident. Who made me feel like the old Jo Taylor, the one that didn't have to worry all the time. Kendall who was still asleep in my room. And I thought that maybe, maybe he'd care...But I wasn't naive enough to believe that just because of what happened between us everything changed.  
So I kept my distance from him, and Camille. She didn't like it at first; she tried to drag me down to the beach, and we went together for a drink at the third night but that was all. It's not like we were friends. Kendall, I think he was confused. I think he wanted to talk about it but I didn't. I couldn't. I hadn't regretted anything and if he had...well that would only make me feel worst and I don't know how much worst it could get.

I relaxed by the pool and borrowed a book from the little bookcase in the reception, called Slam and if you haven't read it yet go and do so. It's not a masterpiece or anything but it makes time pass by quickly. And so I read, and I slept, and I swam and I didn't talk to the others. And the day before we flew home I went to the church, during Mass. I didn't get in, I stayed at the small squad under a huge fir tree. It was the first time in a month or so. It was easier than I thought to pass the front gate but when I reached the steps that led in I just couldn't climb them.

_Logan_

I have always been an introspective man. James said that this would be my doom; thinking all the time about what I did wrong, and what I could've done instead. According to him most of the trouble in the world is caused by introspection. But lately I had no time to actually think about everything that made me want to jump of off Topper's House.

When I checked out of the hotel, the only thing I wanted was to be as far away from Camille as I could. But as much as that girl drove me insane, and as much as I wanted to punch Kendall for acting all holier than thou, they occupied a part of me. A part that when was left empty started filling up with thoughts of my problems, once again. It wasn't just that either; they also made me feel relatively accomplished. I'd done things, and because I'd done things, there was a possibility that I might do other things. They'd done nothing at all, and it was not difficult to imagine that they would continue to do nothing at all.

I moved into a room that was more or less identical to the one I'd been staying in, except I treated myself to a sea view and a balcony. And I sat on the balcony for two solid days, staring at the sea view and being introspective. The conclusions I drew on the first day were that I'd made a mess of just about everything, and that I'd be better off dead, and if I died no one would miss me or feel bad about my death. And then I got drunk. And while intoxicated I thought of James and how much at least he was going to miss me. And I thought of Peggy and imagined her dancing over my grave, and my parents and how they possibly wouldn't even make it to the funeral. And then I thought about Camille, and the alarm bells started ringing in my head so I decided to go to bed instead of pondering on the brunette.

The second day was only very slightly more constructive; having reached the conclusion the previous night that no one would miss me if I died –apart from James-, I realized belatedly that most of my woes were someone else's fault: Liam was dead, and he was dead because Peggy hadn't been careful, and because Peggy couldn't forgive one, ONE, mistake! One mistake out of say a hundred opportunities! I got 99 per cent and I still failed the test! I was imprisoned a)due to entrapment, and b) because society's attitudes to teenage sexuality are outmoded. I lost my job and my medical license not because I was imprisoned, even though that's what my 'buddy' the chief of medicine claimed, but because of my bosses hypocrisy and disloyalty. So at the end of the second day, I wanted to kill other people, rather than kill myself, and that's got to be healthier, surely?

Camille found me on the third day. I was sitting in a cafe reading a two-day-old Daily Express and drinking cafe con leche, and she sat down opposite me.  
"Anything about us in there?" she asked trying to take a peek.  
"I expect so," I said "But I've only read the sport and the horoscopes so far. Haven't looked at the front page yet."  
"Ha, ha, hil-arious," she said and I gave her a smug smile "Can I sit with you?"  
"No," I said but she sat anyway.  
"You know that we should talk about it," she said her eyes pinning on the paper that was covering my face.

"No we don't."  
"Yes we do, we're not in high school anymore Logan."  
"Exactly, Camille, we are not," I said. She snatched the paper out of my hands "Hey! Why did you do that for?"  
"Because, I want to see you when I talk to you," she said and tossed it on the chair next to her. I huffed and sat lower on my chair "Will you quit sulking? It was just a kiss."

"If it was just a kiss what is there to discuss?"  
"I just don't want things to get weird between us."  
"Things are weird between us from the moment I tackled you on the rooftop," I told her.  
"Why don't you wanna talk about it?"  
"I just don't want too."  
"Oh don't be like that, I didn't ask you a hard question! And it was just..."  
"A kiss is never just a kiss, okay?" I snapped and jumped up. I left some money on the table and walked out. Camille followed me down the street.  
"What are you? A sixteen year old girl? A kiss is never just a kiss?"  
"It isn't to me Camille! I don't go around kissing people!"  
"You slept with a fucking sixteen year old..."  
"Yeah, and look where that got me!"  
"Logan," she said and took a hold of my arm stopping me. I didn't turn around to look at her "Look, I'm sorry about the other night, okay? I really am, I was so messed up and you helped and I..."  
"So you regret kissing me?" I asked and she tagged on my arm forcing me to turn around.  
"What?"  
"Nothing, never mind," I shook my head. Seriously, was I sixteen year old girl? What the hell?

"I don't regret it," she whispered so quickly that I could've missed it but I didn't. I looked at her but I had nothing to say "Does it mean anything?" she asked.  
Did it mean anything? You know, if you knew me, you'd probably think that it did, because I really don't go around kissing people – Hannah is the only exception. But everything was so tangled up in my head, I couldn't even really understand whether I wanted to kill Camille or not, let alone if I liked her. Instead of answering I started walking again.

"Why don't you go find Jo and Kendall?" I asked as she fall in step with me.  
"They're boring."  
"And I'm not?"  
"Don't sound so pleased about it."  
"I don't,"  
"Yeah you do."  
"Whatever Camille..."  
"Hey, what about a game of pool?" she asked pointing towards a the other side of the street.  
"Nope," I said with a firm shake of my head.  
"Sex maybe?" she asked and I tripped over an invisible rock. I almost went crashing down, but there was a tree next to me and I clung on to it. I heard her laughing and I glared at her.  
"I am only messing around with you," she said, but her smile was mischievous "But it wouldn't be a bad suggestion would it..."  
"Yes it would!"  
"Why? Don't you fancy me?" she asked tauntingly coming towards me. I took a step back and put the tree between us.  
"N-no," I stuttered, her smile grew.  
"Some men do," she said all innocently and I narrowed my eyes; right because that's exactly what I wanted to talk about "And you know, you gave me a whole other impression the other night," she said rounding the tree. I took another step back but then there was nowhere to go; behind me was a solid brick wall. I toyed with the collar of my shirt and she bit on her lip "Feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," I said my voice higher than usual.  
"Mmm, you look fine," she said and she gave me a once over. I think my face looked like a tomato by that point.

"What are you playing at Camille?"  
"I'm not playing anything," she said shrugging "I just want to check something out."

And just like that she eliminated the distance between us. Her lips came crashing down on mine, her hands pressing against my chest. I was stunned at first, hadn't really seen that coming, and I didn't react. But then she made to move away and the reflex was almost instinctive; my arms came around her waist holding her close to me. Camille smiled and turned her head on the side deepening the kiss.  
"Mmm," she hummed when she pulled away "Yup, that's where I got that cinnamon taste from," she grinned at me and I think I was well beyond panicked because I chirped,

"I need to pee," and then I literally ran into this coffee shop called New York City. I found the lavatory, closed the lid and sat down after I bolted the door. For the next hour or two I could hear her talking to me through the wall but eventually she stopped; I presumed she'd gone but I stayed in there anyway, just in case. It was eleven in the morning when I bolted the door, and three in the afternoon when I came out. Camille was right there leaning on the wall, arms crossed, and I really considering spending the last days of our holiday locked behind the closed door of the restroom.

_Kendall_

The last band I was in broke up after a show in Islington, just a few blocks from where my apartment is now. We knew we were breaking up before we went on stage, but we hadn't talked about it. We'd played in Manchester just the night before, to a very small crowd and we were a little snappy all the way down to London, but we were mostly morose and quiet. It felt exactly the same as when you break up with a woman you love – the sick feeling in the stomach, the knowledge that nothing you can say will make any fucking difference (or, if it does, it won't make any difference for any longer than like five minutes). It's weirder when a band break ups, because you kind of know that you won't lose touch with the people the way you lose touch with a girlfriend. I could've sat in a bar with all three of them the next night without arguing, but the band would still have ceased to exist. It was more than the four of us; it was a house, and we were the people in it, and we'd sold it, so it wasn't our any more.

The show that night had this...I don't know what are the right words. I guess you can call it unhappy intensity...yeah so it had this feeling. And afterwards we walked into this shitty little dressing room, and sat down in a line and then Carlos said "That feels like it". And he did this thing, this thing that only Carlos would do at this moment, and he took my hand, and he took Dak's hand and he squeezed. And I think there were tears in his eyes, but I don't remember that well. And then Dak took Wayne's hand, just so that we'd all be joined for one last time, and Wayne said 'Fuck you, queer boy," and stood up real quick, which kind of tells you all you need to know about our drummer.

I had only known my holiday companions for a few weeks, but there was the same kind of sick feeling on the way from the hotel to the airport. There was a break-up coming, you could smell it, and no one was saying anything. And it was for the same reason, which was that we'd taken things as far as we could, and there was nowhere for us to go. That's why everyone breaks up, I guess, bands, friends, marriages, anything...  
I'm not going to lie, I was frustrated. And angry. And kinda hurt too. And you probably know where this is going but if not, then I shall spell it out; Jo had been distant, so much so that the only thing I got to say to her was 'good morning' and 'good night'. It's like she knew exactly where I'd be, and so she went the other way; I was at the pool, she was in her room. I was in the hotel restaurant, she was at the pool. I'd tell Camille that I was going out for the day; she'd decide to stay in. It was aggravating. I couldn't get her alone for more than a minute!

I know what you'll say 'why were you so wound up about talking things out? You are both adults, things like that happen." Well, shit to you my friend. I know that things like that happened, but with Jo...It was different. She was not a one night stand. I knew Jo. I liked Jo. Believe it or not, I think we shared a connection from that very first night when we bonded over making fun of all those phony people in that party in Shoreditch and she punched Steve. And I just couldn't understand why she was pulling herself away like that.  
It's true that I didn't see much of Camille or Logan for the rest of the week. He had checked out after the second day in Tenerife and I think she was stalking him or something because every day after breakfast –oh get this, every day I had breakfast with Camille and we both made it out of it alive- she'd clap her hands and inform me with a smile 'Okay, so I'm gonna go find Logan, see what he's been up to' and then she'd leave just like that. But that didn't bother me as much as Jo shunning me out.

You know, it's funny, but when the band split, one of the reasons I felt sick was because I was worried about the other guys. What the fuck were they going to do, you know? None of us were over-qualified. Wayne wasn't real big on reading, and writing, if you get what I'm saying, and Carlitos...well, he was too, aggressive to hold down a job for long, and Dak...Dak liked his spliff...The one person I had no real concerns about was me. I was going to be ok. I was smart, and stable, and I had a girlfriend, even though I knew I'd miss making music. I was going to be fine because I knew that I could still be something and someone without it. So what happens? A few weeks later, Wayne and Dak get a gig with a band back home whose rhythm and section had walked out on them, Carlos wants to follows on his father's footsteps and starts thinking about joining the police force, and I'm delivering pizzas and nearly jumping off a fucking roof!

This time around I was determined not to fret about my fellow band members. But it was almost impossible; because now I knew that Camille's issues had to do with her sister, and that she thought that no one knew, or cared that she was still there. And I knew that Logan was the kind of person to take everything at heart, that he was the kind of person to take responsibility for others misdoings, and worry about them. And I knew that Jo was about to snap, that if she went back to that hospital, if she kept herself away from everyone like she'd done for so long, she was going to lose it. And I couldn't help but feel like it was my job to protect them or something. And I tried to push that feeling away, hard as I could.  
In the taxi to the airport we talked some about what we'd done, but Jo kept her face turned towards the window like we weren't even there. In the plane I was once again sitting next to Camille and she quickly dozed off so I tried to do the same and like twenty minutes before we hit the ground I succeeded, and then I had to wake up. And then we got the tube from Heathrow to King's Cross, and took a bus from there. It was on the bus that we started to recognize that maybe we wouldn't be hanging out so much.  
"Why not?" Camille wanted to know.  
"Because we have nothing in common," Logan pointed it out and turned his eyes away when she looked his way "The holiday proved that."  
"I thought it was okay," she said and there was a small smile on her face that I couldn't explain. I looked at Jo and found her gazing at her shoes. Logan snorted.  
"We didn't speak to each other."  
"You were hiding in a toilet most of the time," Camille said accusingly.

"And why was that, do you think? Because we're soul mates? Or because ours is not one of my most fulfilling relationships?"  
"Yeah?" Camille said challengingly and I think I saw a shadow of fear passing through Logan's eyes "And what is your most fulfilling relationship?"  
"What's yours?" he shot back. Camille pondered at it for a second, and her eyes ran over us before returning to him.  
"With you guys," she said and there was something in her voice that I don't know how to describe.  
There was a silence that was long enough for us to see that for her, what she was saying it was the truth. And luckily for us, Logan spoke up just as we were starting to see how it might possibly apply to us too.  
"Yeah well...it shouldn't be."

Camille didn't say anything after that. She lowered her head, and I think she did it on purpose so that her hair would create this thick curtain so that we couldn't see her face. Logan sighed and he shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, and I clapped him on the back because I felt like doing so. He gave me a tired smile and then his gaze turned questioning as he looked over at Jo. He looked back at me and I shrugged as if to tell him that I didn't know what was wrong with her.

"What about Valentine's Day?" said blonde spoke up for the first time that day and her voice was husky.

"We can meet on Valentine's Day, I suppose," Logan said with a small shrug "We said we'd do that."  
"Up on the roof?" Camille questioned and Logan frowned at her.  
"Do you still think you might throw yourself off?" he asked and it was her turn to shrug.  
"Why not?" she asked pinning in his eyes "It's not like anything changed...Right?" she asked.  
So I was obviously missing something. I still didn't know what went down the night that Jo and I had our drink at the salsa place. And something obviously did because the tension between Logan and Camille was so thick you could probably cut it with a knife. I saw him towing with that skinny black tie he loved – seriously it's like he never got that thing off. It took him almost two minutes to come up with an answer.  
"Right," he said and his voice was so thin that the word was almost inaudible.

I looked out of the window at the traffic in the rain, and saw that we were almost at my block, so I said goodbye and stood by the door waiting for it to open. On the reflection of the window I saw Jo staring at me but she didn't say anything. I got off and watched the bus drive away and I could see Jo waving. I swallowed and let a heavy sigh, well that was probably one conversation that was never going to happen now.

For the next week I did nothing, pretty much. I read a lot, it kept my mind busy from thinking one certain blonde, and I wandered around Islington to see if there was any sign of a bad job for me. One night I blew ten pounds on a ticked for a band called Fat Chance, who were playing at Union Chapel. They started up around the same time as us, and now they had a decent deal, and there was a buzz about them, but in my not so humble opinion they were totally lame. They stood there and played their songs, and the audience clapped, and there was an encore and then we left and I wouldn't say any of us was richer from the experience. I gotta say though the blokes who opened up for them, I think they were called The real humans or something pretentious like that, they were pretty decent.

And then I was recognised on the way out, by this dude, who must have been in his late thirties.

"All right, Kendall?" he asked and I frowned as I halted to look at him.  
"Do I know you?"  
"I saw you at the Hope and Anchor last year," that was our last gig that I told you about "I heard that the band split. You living here?"  
"Yeah, for now."  
"What are you doing? You gone solo?"  
"Yeah, that's right," I lied through my teeth.

"Cool."  
We met at eight in the evening on Valentine's Day, and everyone was on time. Camille wanted to meet later, like at midnight or something, for full tragic effect, but no one else thought that was a good idea, and Jo didn't want to travel back home so late. I ran into her on the stairs on the way up.  
"Hey," I said and I could see her tensing up. She forced a smile on her face.  
"Hi Kendall," she said and I tried to smile as well but I couldn't. I ran a hand through my hair and looked in her eyes.  
"So I heard about you travelling home afterwards, gotta say I'm glad about it," Jo frowned at me and tilted her head on the side.  
"Were else would I go?"  
"No, I just meant...Last time you weren't gonna go home, you know?"

"Oh...I'm still feeling the benefit of the holiday, I think," she said and then she clapped her hand over her mouth and her cheeks turned red. I have the impression that if my eyes could roll off their sockets at that moment, they would have.  
"Ugh, really?" I asked after clearing my throat four times. Jo shook her head no "No? But..y-you just said..."  
"Forget what I said," she snapped and started taking the stairs two at a time.  
"Jo wait!" I rushed after her but she didn't stop. I shook my head and going a bit faster I got a step up from her and blocked her way.  
"Kendall, let's just get on the roof and..." she said and made a move with her hand.  
"And?" I asked leaning towards her. She took a step back and almost lost her stepping "Whoa there!" I exclaimed and darted forward to steady her.  
"I'm okay," she said snappily and tried to get my hands off of her but she couldn't "Kendall, there's nothing that I have to say to you."  
"Oh yeah? What if I have to say something to you?"  
"Well do you?"  
"Aha."  
"Okay then, say it!" she cried out crossing her arms over her chest. That was easier said than done. How does one start a conversation like this? 'Hi Jo, remember that night that we slept together? Yeah, I totally liked it. I mean I don't know what my feelings are about you, but I'd do it again. Oh, and plus, I think we have this connection, is it only me or you feel it too?'...Yeah that's now how it should go.  
"Why did you leave?" I asked instead. Jo blinked at me "You could've at least waited until I was up..."  
"Because," she said emphatically "I didn't want this," she moved her hand between us "To happen."  
"But you had to know that it would, sooner or later," I reasoned. Jo sighed and pressed her fingers over her eyes.  
"What do you want me to tell you Kendall? That I was drank? That I regretted it..."  
"Did you?" I asked and my voice sounded much more hurt than I expected.  
"Didn't you?" she asked back and before I could stop I shook my head no. Jo pressed her lips together.

"Did you regret it?" I asked again.

"No, no I didn't...But it's just something that happened and..."  
"Something that happened? Really Jo?"  
"Yes, things like that happen between grownups."  
"So it was just sex, right? There was nothing else there?" I demanded. I don't know why I was so angry about it, I already told you that I didn't quite know how I felt about Jo but the thought that to her that night meant nothing made me see red.  
"I think we should go up, we don't want to be late," she said and sidestepped me. And I was left there watching at her retrieving back.

_Camille_

I think I was more depressed when I came back from Tenerife than when I went there. It's not like it had been a nice vacation for me; I mean I was roofied! And then Logan had to go and kiss me back when I initiated a drunken kiss! I was out of it, what was his excuse, huh? And what about the second time? You could say that the first I caught him off guard, it was late, he was probably drank himself...whatever. But the second time, it was broad daylight, and we were out in the public. Sure afterwards he made a beeline for the restroom but he had kissed me back. He'd messed up my head more and let me tell you that was quite the task.

I didn't lie when I said that he spent almost all his time locked in the bathroom. Whenever I went to his hotel room he'd let me in...Well after the first time because that time he didn't and then I started screaming that he was trying to put the moves on me, and the manager came up, it was messy. So anyway after that first time he'd learned his lesson and he let me in and then he'd go in the bathroom and lock himself in there, like he was afraid I was going to attack him or anything!

But he responded to me when I talked, and it only made things that much more complicated because I realised that when Logan wasn't being an ass for the sake of being one, he was actually a pretty sweet and descend guy. And we had more things in common than I'd imagined; we liked the same music –more or less, and his favourite movie was Unusual Suspects –which is a shit clever movie. We talked about a bunch of staff, about his job and how much he missed being in the hospital every day, about Peggy and how he didn't miss her bitching about James being around all the time but at the same time he missed her because she was always so supportive. He told me a ton of things about James, and how they met and how they became friends. He told me that the baby he and Peggy lost was a boy that they'd name him Liam...

And then on the way back on that fucking bus he said that we had nothing in common and that nothing had changed! Can you imagine how angry that made me feel? If you're a woman I think that you probably can. I don't know what made him open up to me, but he did. And then he wasn't just a guy that I met the night I decided to kill myself. No, he was a guy that had stopped me from jumping, he was a guy that helped me find where Steve was when I thought it was the only thing that could help me not to commit suicide, he was a guy that I went on a holiday with, a guy that found me almost fainted and carried me back home and stayed with me that whole night, a guy that talked to me about his whole life. A guy that I'd kissed twice. A guy that I had started having feelings for, feelings that I couldn't really explain, and that I didn't necessarily want. But they were there and I couldn't act like they weren't. And I couldn't let him act like they weren't.

I didn't see any of them until Valentine's Day. I almost called Jo twice, and I looked at Logan's number on my mobile every night before I went to bed. But I never dialled it. I didn't want him not to pick it up. The weeks until our next meeting passed by slowly. I went to University, where everyone looked at me like I was an alien because the angel story was still pretty fresh. Sometimes I would go for a coffee with some of the girls from class, that I can't really call friends maybe at best acquaintances...although Stephanie ended up being pretty decent after all and I found myself talking with her a lot.

Oh, guess what my Dad did! C'mon guess, I know you can do it if you try. No? Nothing? Oh, you guys don't play fair, anyway! He called my Mom. He called and told her that I was thinking about killing myself. And what did she do? She decided to come over! Like that would change anything! She had already given up on me so I don't know what she thought she could say to make things different.  
I tried to stay clear from her and I was pretty good at it. I should say, on her behalf, that she was really trying to have a serious conversation with me, but I didn't want to participate in one.

When I stepped out on the terrace on Valentine's Day, Logan was already there. His back was turned on me, he was looking down at London. I stood there for a second, just watching him, and then I walked up at him and touched his arm. He jumped a little and he tensed when he saw it was me but he smiled.

"Hey Camille," he said.  
"Hey," I said back. He bounced on the balls of his feet and looked down at me.  
"How have you been?" he asked and I scoffed and hooked an eyebrow.  
"Why? Do you care?"  
"I do," he said slowly. I shrugged, even though my insides were doing a flip flop because of his words.

"You could've called."  
"I...I thought about it," he said honestly and rubbed the back of his neck.  
"Really?" I questioned and he nodded, his cheeks tinted pink "Then why didn't you?"

"Because even though I wanted to, it wasn't a good idea."  
"Logan..."  
"No Camille," he cut me off and smiled "I'm a fuck up, okay? I'm twenty five and I already have a divorce under my belt. If things had gone differently I would be a father now. I lost my medical license and I'll never be able to find a job..."  
"I don't care about that staff. Things didn't go differently and as selfish and awful that sounds I'm glad they aren't because then I'd be probably dead. And I would've never met you and..."  
"That might've been a good thing."  
"No way that would've been a good thing."  
"Camille, you don't want to be with a guy like me, trust me," he said while smiling. And the bad thing is that he really believed that about himself; that he was a fuck up, someone that didn't deserve my time.  
"Too bad I have a different opinion," I said and reached for his hand...And then Jo and Kendall decided to make an appearance. Jo stopped well away from us and looked at me with what I'd call an apologetic look, but I just glared at her.  
"You're already here," Kendall stated.

"Gee, Captain Obvious, really?" I asked sarcastically. Kendall chuckled to himself and shook his head "What?" I demanded.  
"I've kind of missed your sarcasm," he said looking at me. I was surprised but gave him a genuine smile.  
"Okay, so," Jo started looking at the rest of us "How are we feeling about this?"

"Camille is doing good," Logan said for me and I narrowed my eyes at him "And even if she didn't, there's still no way she's jumping off this building," I huffed but I couldn't hide the smile that graced my lips.  
"Here we go again!" I said and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Deal with it," he said waggling his eyebrows. I stuck my tongue at him.  
"Well, Jo is doing fine as well," Kendall said and Jo's gaze turned at him "Aren't you, Jo?"  
"Ugh, yeah, I am. I'm not bursting with happiness or anything but things are better..." she trailed off. I saw the way that Kendall was looking at her and I frowned; what had I missed?  
"How about you, Loges?" Kendall asked looking at the guy next to me "How are you doing?"  
"Oh, you know...comme si comme ca," he said with a shrug "And you Ken?" he asked back. Kendall simply shrugged. We stayed silent for a little while until Logan cleared his throat "I read something I thought might interest you all," he said.  
"Yeah?" Kendall prompted.  
"Actually, I was wondering...Maybe it would be good to talk about it somewhere other than here. A pub, say."  
"Sounds good to me," Kendall said with a nod and a smirk "If the ladies agree of course."

"Hmm, well I do have this hot date..." Jo started and we all looked at her like she'd grown a second head. She rolled her eyes "I'm only kidding! But I don't see why that would be so hard to believe," she said her voice slightly hurt.  
"Camille?" Kendall turned to me without commenting at what Jo had just said.  
"Sure, why not," I said.  
"Okay, Logan are we getting out of here or what? Logan?" Kendall said but Logan wasn't listening.  
"Fuck," he muttered "Oh Christ."  
He was staring at the corner of the roof, the spot where he himself had snipped the wire on New Year's Eve. There was a guy sitting there, exactly where Logan had sat, and he was watching us. He was maybe a few years older than me, and he looked real frightened.

"Hey, hey buddy," Logan said in a low soothing voice "Just, just stay there, ok?" he started to walk slowly over to him and so did Kendall.  
"Please don't come any closer," the guy said. He was panicky, near tears, dragging furiously on a smoke.  
"We've all been there," Kendall said, he was closer to him than Logan "Come on back over and you can join our gang. This is our reunion," he said and tried another couple of steps. He didn't say anything.  
"Yeah," I heard myself saying, I had also started walking towards him "Look at us, we're ok. You think you're never going to get through the evening, but you do."  
"I don't want to," he said.  
"Tell us what the problem is," Logan said and Kendall nodded.  
"Yeah, I mean we're like fucking experts in the field. Jo here..."  
But he never got any further. The guy flipped his cigarette over the edge, and then with a little moan he pushed himself off. And I saw Kendall running to the ledge and looking down, and Logan lowered his head and sighed, and I just clenched on to him and hid my face on his arm. And after that terrible, deafenning silence, there was the noise of his body hitting the concrete all those floors below. I flinched and I started trembling and Logan hugged me. Those two noises, the moan and the thud, I've heard every single day since, and I still don't know which is scarier.

**A/N: Did you like it? Yes? No? Maybe? Let me know! Until the next time, bye! **


	11. The wishing game

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the series, not the group, and definitely not Nick Hornby's book; I just based the story on it. **

**A/N: Hey all! This story now has officially 1,033 views!I mean wow, seriously, thanks to everyone who's taken the time to read this story! And thanks to everyone who has reviewed and put the story on alert and favoured it. Thank you! Here goes the next chapter**

Chapter 11

The wishing game

_Logan_

The guy who jumped had two profound and apparently contradictory effects on us all. Firstly, he made us realize that we weren't capable of killing ourselves. And secondly, this information made us suicidal again.

That isn't a paradox, if you know anything about the perversity of human nature. A long time ago, I worked with an alcoholic- someone who I'm not going to name because I don't want him to lose his job, even though he didn't help me to keep mine. And he told me that the first time he failed on an attempt to quit the booze was the most terrifying day of his life. He'd always thought that he could stop drinking, if he ever got around to it, so he had a choice stashed away in a sock drawer somewhere at the back of his head. But when he found out that he had to drink, that the choice had never really been there...Well, he wanted to do away with himself, if I may temporarily confuse our issues.  
I didn't understand what he meant until I saw the guy jumping off the room. Up until then, jumping had always been a way out, money in the bank for a rainy day. And then suddenly the money was gone, or rather it had never been there. It belonged to the dude who jumped, and people like him, because dangling your feet is not the same. It means nothing unless you're prepared to go that extra two inches. And none of us had been.

We got off that roof immediately after he'd gone over. Well I say immediately but not exactly; Jo was so shaken that she couldn't even move and it took a lot of coaxing from Kendall to get her down the stairs. Camille on the other hand was a crying mess. But we knew that we couldn't stay around; we couldn't explain our role, or lack of it, in the poor chap's demise. We had a little Topper's previous, after all, and by owning up, we'd only be confusing the issue. If people knew we'd been up there, then the clarity of the story – unhappy man jumps off building- would be diminished.

So we charged down the stairs, as fast as we could considering that two fourths of us were barely functioning at the moment, and we went our separate ways, and when I say we, I mean Kendall and Jo and Camille and I. Camille was too distraught and I didn't want to leave her alone. And because I didn't want to explain to her father why she was like that I took her back home with me. James grew worried when he saw that I got back with company, especially when he noticed the state of Camille's being; she was going into shock mode. The doctor in me kicked in and I laid her on the couch, took her shoes off, and covered her with a thick blanket. I forced some Valerian down her throat and soon she was out of it.

"You think she'll be okay?" James asked as he looked at the sleeping girl. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.  
"Yeah, she'll be fine, she was just shocked."  
"What happened up there?" James asked studying my face. He knew that we were going to meet on Topper's House and he'd make me swear that I wouldn't jump.  
"A dude jumped," I said and James scoffed. I looked at him seriously and he realised belatedly that I wasn't kidding. His face grew pale then and he looked like he was going to throw up.  
"Oh god," he said and his hand came up to his mouth "That couldn't have been a pretty sight."  
"No, no it wasn't."

We met again the following afternoon in Starbucks. Camille had spent the morning over at my place; she and James got along great together and I hate to admit this but it bothered a bit...Oh god, I am a sixteen year old girl, aren't I? Anyway, when we met it was pretty obvious that we all had the blues. A few days previously, in the immediate aftermath of the holiday, it had been perfectly clear that we no longer had much use for each other...okay that might not be true, but it was what I told to myself and I was pretty good at making myself believe whatever _I _wanted to be true. But now, it was hard to imagine who else would be suitable company.

"I was up all fucking night thinking about that guy," Kendall said rubbing his face with both his hands "What was going on there?"  
"Probably something important; he was not a happy camper," Camille said holding her steaming mug with both hands.

"It'll be in the local paper," Jo said and her voice was hoarser than usual. Her brown eyes looked tired as she gazed at the table in front of her "They usually are. I used to read the reports. Especially when it was coming up to New Year's Eve. I used to compare myself with them."  
"And? How did you get on?" I asked because I didn't want the conversation to die out.

"Oh," she said and looked up at me "I did okay. Some of them I couldn't understand."  
"What sort of things?" I was still the only on participating in the discussion.

"Money," she said with a shrug. Kendall scoffed; he was playing with the receipt, rolling it between his fingers.  
"I owe a lot of people money," he said.

"Perhaps then you should think of killing yourself," I said and Kendall chuckled.  
"Right...You know if my life wasn't a freaking fairytale in every other way possible, then I would," he said sarcastically.

"Aw, you're living the perfect life?" I asked on the same tone. Kendall gave me an exaggerated nod "You see, now I'm all jealous of you."  
"It sucks to be you," Kendall said with a smile. It was my turn to scoff.

"Yeah it does."  
"Let's try to keep some focus, huh?" Jo said and I raised my eyebrows at her.  
"On what? Isn't that kinda the problem? We have nothing to focus on."  
"Let's focus on that guy," Jo said and I noticed that Camille shivered a little. Jo must've seen it too "Are you okay Camille?" she asked. The brunette looked up from her coffee smiling a pathetic fake smile.  
"I'm fine," she said but she sounded far from it.

"We...we don't know anything about the guy," I said trying not to worry about Camille. She was a big girl; if she wasn't okay she was going to say something at some point.  
"No, but, I don't know. He seems kind of important to me. That was what we were going do," Jo said and took a sip from her coffee.  
"Were we?" I asked.

"I was," Camille said forcing me to look at her.  
"But you didn't."  
"Because you tackled me, then straddled me, and when I finally got up, you once again restrained me so I couldn't do it. Oh and Jo wouldn't let me get to the stepladder," Camille said accusingly. Ok, she had a point there.  
"Sure, but you haven't done anything about it since."  
"Well. We went to that party, and then we went on holiday, and you know...There's been one thing after another."  
"Terrible, isn't it, how that happens? You'll have to block out some time in your diary. Otherwise life will keep happening."  
"Oh bite me," Camille said snappily and I was sort of relieved to see that the fiery attitude was still there.

"Guys, guys," Kendall said recalling us in order. I cleared my throat.  
"Like, Kendall, I have spent a long night cogitating," I said.  
"Oh have you now?" Camille asked and I ignored her.  
"And my conclusion is that we are not serious people. We were never serious. We got closer than some, but nowhere near as close as others. And that puts us in something of a bind."  
"I agree," Kendall said with a nod "We're fucked."  
"Mm, I'm missing something," Jo said her eyes flickering between Kendall and me.  
"This is it," I said "This is us."  
"What is?" she asked confused.  
"This," I gestured vaguely at our surroundings "This is it. There's no way out. Not even the way out is the way out. Not for us."

"Am I the only one that doesn't understand him?" Jo asked loudly and Camille was quick to nod in agreement. I bit on my lip and didn't snap at them.

"The other night. I was going to tell you about something I'd read in a magazine. About suicide. Do you remember? Anyway, this guy reckoned that the crisis period lasts ninety days."  
"What guy?" Kendall asked.  
"This suicidologist guy."

"This what guy now?"  
"Suicidologist," I repeated. He frowned.  
"Is that even a word? Let alone a profession?" he asked in disbelief.  
"Apparently," I said. I had reacted exactly like that when I at first found the research; well in all fairness I didn't find it, James did. And he was quite persistent on me reading it. And he was right to be so stubborn because it helped.

"So what?" said Jo.  
"So we've had forty-six of the ninety days."  
"And what happens after the ninety days?" she asked.  
"Nothing happens," I responded "Just...things are different, I guess. Things change. All the stuff that made you think your life was unbearable...they somehow get shifted around. "  
"You believe this is going to happen?" Jo asked surprised. I shrugged.

"Nothing will change for Jo," Camille said her voice low "Or Kendall..."  
"Yeah and I doubt that it will apply to me too, I will still be the guy who slept with the sixteen year old...But you might change," I said and she pinned in my eyes "You do that a lot," I added the last part in a much lower voice "Anyway," I tore my gaze away from hers and looked at the others "My point is, that we extend our deadline again. Because...well, I don't know about you guys, but I realized this morning that I'm not, ready to go solo just yet."  
"Wow," Kendall said looking around in mock disbelief "Did Logan just admitted on needing us?"  
"Shut up Ken-doll," I said snappily.  
"Low blow dude," he shot back, "And you had me all overwhelmed with your last statement."  
"Douche," I whispered loudly and I saw him smiling, I couldn't keep myself from smiling back.  
"When's the ninety days up?" Jo wanted to know.  
"March 31st."  
"Hmm, so exactly three months from now," said Camille.

"Three months..." Kendall pondered on it for a while "That sounds about right...Three months is like a season."  
"Very much like," I agreed "Given there are four season, and twelve months in a year."

"So, we're seeing the winter through together," Kendall said "That's cool. Winter is when you get the blues."  
"Great that you told us, no one around this table had any idea," I said giving him the thumbs up. Kendall rolled his eyes.  
"You're being extra sarcastic today Loges, anything happened?" Kendall asked.  
"You happened," I deadpanned.  
"Woo, score, great comeback buddy," Kendall said mockingly.  
"And so," Jo cut us off "Forty- four days to go...With these two, exciting isn't it Cam?" she asked and Camille chuckled.  
"I don't know if I'll be able to handle it," she said and the two shared a laugh.  
There was something else in the article I read; an interview with a man who'd survived after jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. He said that two seconds after jumping, he realized that there was nothing in his life he couldn't deal with, no problem he couldn't solve – apart from the problem he'd just given himself by jumping off the bridge. I don't know why I didn't tell the others about that; you'd think it might be relevant information. I wanted to keep it to myself for the time being, though. It seemed like something that might be more appropriate later, when the story was over. If it ever was.

_Jo_

Kendall wouldn't let me go home. After we got off the roof and because I was a bit shaken he took me over to his flat and made me some tea. Hey don't judge; you watch a guy make a free jump off of a roof and then we'll see how you cope, ok? But after a couple of hours I was all better and I wanted to go home. Still Kendall was having none of that.  
"But there's no reason for me to stay here!" I said stomping my foot on the floor like a five year old that was having a tantrum.

"What's wrong with spending a night over to a friend's house?" Kendall asked blocking my way to the door.  
"You're not my friend!" I snapped at him. His face fell.

"I'm not?"  
"Kendall," I sighed and pressed my fingers over my forehead.  
Honestly, I didn't want to stay to his place. Ever since that night at Tenerife I felt too uncomfortable being around him because I knew that he wanted to talk about it. And I didn't. I couldn't. I couldn't figure out how I felt, I couldn't figure out whether sleeping with him was a mistake or not. I knew that I hadn't regretted it, but still that didn't make it right.

"Look," he said and I felt his hand on my shoulder, thank god for long sleeves if he'd seen the goosebumps on my arm I would die from embarrassment "If you sleep here, my mind will be at ease. Do you want me to spend the whole night worrying about you?" he asked pinning in my eyes. And just like that, I was defeated. I gave him a rueful smile.  
"I wouldn't want that," I said and he smiled a huge smile.

"Great! Now; let's talk about sleeping arrangements."  
I ended up sleeping on his bed after a heated match of rock-paper-scissors; let me tell you, Kendall is a sore loser. He's so competitive! We were playing on two out of three, and when he won the first round he started a victory dance, and I wish I was kidding. He did not like it one bit when I kicked his ass and threw him out of his bed. Oh and this time I waited for him to wake up before leaving in the morning.

I was right; the story was in the local paper. I bought one on my way back home, and there it was on the front page. The picture of the guy smiling made my stomach turn. I have saved the article; I still read it sometimes, trying to understand why he did it. That first week was the worst; I couldn't keep him out of my head. His name was Henry Lawson, and he'd jumped because his wife divorced him. She was now living with someone else and she'd taken the kids with her.

Logan was right. When I saw Henry Lawson jump, it made me see that I hadn't been ready on New Year's Eve. I'd been ready to make the preparations, because I desperately needed something to do- New Year's Eve was something to look forward to, in a strange sort of way. And when I'd met some people to talk to...then I was happy to talk instead of jump. And I don't know if they'd let me jump anyway. Sure Logan said that they wouldn't stop me, but something tells me that they'd try. But after a while I stopped thinking about it, I'd gone down the stairs willingly. I went to the party willingly. This poor Henry dude hadn't wanted to talk to us, that was the thing I'd noticed. He'd come to jump, not talk. I thought I'd gone to jump, but I ended up talking anyway.

That evening there was a whole jumble of thoughts. I lay in bed half-asleep, thinking about Henry, and coming down off the roof to find Steve, and eventually I got these thoughts unknotted, and when I woke up in the morning I decided it would be a good idea to find out where Logan's wife lived, and then go and talk to her and see if there was any chance of getting them back together.  
Because if that worked, then Logan wouldn't get so eaten up about some things, and he'd have somebody rather than nobody. I purposefully chose to ignore the fact that Logan wasn't alone, that he had James, and that there was something going on with Camille. And I ignored all that because I needed something to do, something that would take my mind away, and help someone else.

But I was an awful detective. I knew that Logan's wife's name was Peggy so I looked for her on the phone book and she wasn't there, and I ran out of ideas after that. So I asked Kendall, because even though I was being intentionally oblivious to the fact that Camille liked Logan I wasn't cruel enough to go ask for her help. Kendall though was game; he found all the information we needed in about five minutes, on a computer. How come I hadn't thought of that? I don't know. And then Kendall wanted to come along to see Peggy...I know, I know, not a good idea. But you try telling him he can't have something he wants.

_Kendall_

When Jo called I was happily surprised. I hadn't been in my most gentlemanly manners after she beat me in rock-paper-scissors, and we still hadn't talked about our night in Tenerife, so I thought she'd like to keep her distance. But then she told me why she called and I quickly agreed to help her. Logan needed something good in his life and if I was the one to make him feel better it wouldn't be too bad, would it? Okay, maybe I didn't do it just because of him, but Jo had called asking me for my help, how could I refuse her?

Jo came over to my place and we sat in front of my laptop and I typed into Google 'Peggy Mitchell', and I found an interview she'd given to some woman's magazine when Logan had gone to prison with a ridiculous title going along the lines of 'Peggy Mitchell talks for the first time about her heartbreak' and all that. We read the interview, and it said she lived in this village called Torley Heath, about forty miles outside London. And I don't get why but the interviewer described exactly where her house is in the village and what it looks like; it's like she was asking for other reporters to go knocking on her door.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," Jo muttered as I locked the door of my apartment.  
"But this was your idea."  
"I know...But what if we mess everything up worse than it already is?"  
"How can we make it any worse?" I asked genuinely confused. Jo sighed.  
"I don't know...But I don't have a good feeling about this."  
"Okay look, if you want to go for a coffee instead or go back home that's okay with me. Your choice," I said while crossing my fingers inside the pocket of my coat. Jo worried her lip looking at her shoes.

"Logan made one mistake, and she hates him so much for it...But does she hate him enough to let him die?" Jo muttered "I mean, I'm sure that if he had something stable going on, even if he can't get his job back, it will help him realise that life isn't so bad after all."  
"So the question here is whether or not Peggy hates him enough to let him die?" I repeated. Jo nodded "Logan won't be happy with us meddling in his personal business."

"I know."  
"Ok, let's do this!" I said and Jo scoffed as she looked up at me. I flashed her a smile and she smiled back. Well if Logan was going to hate us...well at least I would have to make it so he hated it us for a good reason.

We got the tube to Paddington, then the train to Newbury, and then the bus to Torley Heath. Jo was willingly talking to me which was something I didn't expect. This time it was the other way round; Jo was making the questions and I had to provide answers for my personal life.

"Favourite book?" she asked and I brushed my chin.  
"Hmm...hmm...I have to go with, a clockwork orange," I said and saw her rolling her eyes "What? It's a great book!"  
"I know that...But I would've expected something more original."  
"Like East of Eden more original?" I deadpanned.  
"You remember that?" she asked and I nodded. A pleased smile reached her lips but she quickly wiped it away "Well you're a rock star and so pretentious on every other aspect so I thought..."  
"Hey, hey now. I'm not pretentious."  
"Yeah...you're not," she said condescendingly.

"I'm not! I'm just too cool and I know it," I said and Jo started laughing, and I should've gotten offended because she was laughing at me but I didn't; I loved the sound of her laugh.  
"Right, sorry," she said. She cleared her throat and fanned herself. I rolled my eyes "Favourite band and music album."  
"What? I can't answer that," I said.  
"Why not?"  
"I can't just pick one band Jo."  
"Fine, top five then," she said crossing her arms.  
"Mmm, let me thing...Do you want them in order?"  
"It doesn't matter."  
"Ok...Somewhere in the top five there's definitely a place for The Beatles and 'Help!'," I said and I saw her nodding "And of course The Who's masterpiece 'Tommy'..."  
"Woo, I love that album," Jo said.  
"Right?" I said emphatically "Then there's 'Closer' and Joy Division. Jethro Tull and 'Songs from the Wood' and last but not least...drum roll please," I said and started air drumming making her chuckle "Incubus and 'Make yourself'."  
"Hm, not bad Mr Rockstar," Jo said with an appreciative nod of her head.  
"Thank you," I made a small bow "This was harder than I thought."

"So where are you from?" she asked leaning with her elbows on her knees.  
"Minnesota. And you?"  
"North Carolina...Do you ever miss it?"  
"What? Home?" I asked and she nodded "I do, now and then. But it's true what they say; you can never go back."

"Yeah...Got any siblings?"  
"A sister, younger...She's, wow, she's seventeen now. Haven't seen her in a long while," I said remembering of Katie.  
"It must be tough, being so far away from her."  
"It is, we were really close."  
"Then why...?"  
"Told you; you can never go back."  
The bus stop was right outside the village shop that the article in the magazine had gone on about. So we got off the bus and stood outside the shop and looked across the road to see what we could see. What we saw was this little cottagey sort of place with a low wall, and you could look into the garden and there was this yellow lab chewing on a ball.

We knocked on the door and Peggy answered and she looked at me and Jo as if she half-recognised us. Jo cleared her throat and nudged me on the ribs.  
"H-hey," I said with a pleasant smile "I'm Kendall, and this Jo, and we..." I trailed off. Jo huffed.

"We know your husband, Logan," she said and Peggy's face contorted in anger.  
"Ex-husband," she said bitterly. That was not a good start.  
"Well...he doesn't have to be your ex-husband," I said and I wanted to slap myself; what was that?

"What?" she asked looking at me incredulously.  
"What Kendall is trying to say is, you could...you know, maybe take him back?"  
"Oh no, I couldn't. And I wouldn't want to," she said and got ready to close the door in our face. My hand stopped her.  
"Please, maybe we could talk about this inside? We came down from London on the train, I would appreciate a glass of water," I said and started coughing to make my point.

"I'm sorry, where are my manners," she mattered to herself shaking her head "Sorry, c'mon in," she said and pulled aside to let us in. If I wasn't pretending to be in a coughing fit my jaw would've hit the floor; a couple of strangers had just knocked on her door, telling her to talk her cheater ex-husband back, and instead of telling us to fuck off she invited us in! Jo was as surprised as I was so we both kept silent as we walked in the cottage.

Peggy showed us through to the living room and she went to get me a glass of water. Jo pulled at my sleeve and I followed her gaze; there was this dude, lounging by the fireplace. He was nice looking, younger than Peggy, and it was obvious he was not just visiting because he was in pyjamas. He had his earphones on listening to something and he didn't seem to notice us.

"Well, I think, there's no point at talking to her," Jo whispered and I nodded.  
"Yup, but since we're here..." I trailed off. I looked around the place; it was cosy and small. The colours were all warm, shades of beige and light brown, and there were many pillows. I noticed a framed picture on the table...a black and white framed... "Oh god, she has her sonogram framed," I said to Jo. She groaned.  
"Why do I feel like we're awful people?" she mumbled.  
Peggy came back with my water and I thanked her. She went up to the dude and tapped him on the shoulder.  
"We've got visitors."  
"Oh, I'm sorry...I was listening to an audio autobiography by...anyway, it doesn't matter," he shut up.

"They're friends of Logan's," Peggy said.  
"Oh...ugh, do you want me to leave?"  
"No, of course not, whatever they've come to say I want you to hear," she said and all I wanted was for the floor to open and the couch that I was sitting on to get sucked in the earth. But this was Jo's idea so I looked at her expectantly.

"Well," she said sifting uncomfortably on her seat "We came to tell you to...get back with Logan, but we didn't know that you're already in a relationship..."  
"Already?" Peggy asked raising an eyebrow and Jo's eyes got huge, so I had to jump is.  
"The thing is, we're worried about him..."  
"Yes, well, I can't say I'm surprised," Peggy said with a small shrug. Was that supposed to mean something?

"Have you read the story in the papers? About the guy who jumped off Topper's House? He did it because he broke it off with this wife and..."  
"Logan slept with an underage and got himself into prison," Peggy said darkly. Her blue eyes turned to Jo "Would you stay with him after that?"

"He did a mistake, and he knows that it's a mistake trust me on that..."  
"I never doubted he'd realise it, sooner or later."  
"I think you owe him a second chance," Jo said and Peggy laughed.  
"And I don't, so I guess we'll have to agree to disagree."  
"So, you want him to die then?" I asked and I know that it was wrong because she didn't imply that but I wanted to see her reaction. She stayed silent for a while and then she looked down at her feet.  
"I thought about killing myself too, when things were really bad. After I...after we lost Liam," she said and I looked at Jo questioningly and she inclined her head towards the sonogram; so Liam was the name of the baby "But I didn't do it. And I never told him, I never..." she stopped and pressed her lips together.

"I think...maybe I should go," the dude said and got up. And then he tripped over Jo's foot, and Peggy darted forward and held him on his feet.  
"Careful darling," she said and pressed a kiss on his forehead. He smiled and went away and then I think I really wanted to kill myself.  
Because the dude was blind, and we'd gone all the way down there to convince Peggy to give up on him and get back together with Logan. Although we didn't know that he was blind, and we didn't know she had a new relationship before we knocked on the door.  
I'll tell you what got to me though. The only proof that Logan had ever had anything to do with Peggy was us turning up in her house. As far as Peggy was concerned he might as well have never existed. She'd moved on, and she had a whole new life now, with a new guy and a new house. Her past was in the past...and that's something that I cannot say with certainty about us.

Our past was still all over the place. We could see it every day when we woke up. She lived in a modern penthouse and we lived in some old shithole that should have been pulled down years ago. We lived in a place where there were holes in the walls, and anyone could stick their head through them... Jo and I were trying to persuade Peggy to move out of her cool penthouse and move into a dump with us. The analogy is kind of shitty but it's exactly what we were trying to do; and it wasn't much of an offer.

And as we were leaving, Peggy leaned on the door and said,

"I'd have more respect for him if he asked me himself."  
"Asked you what?" Jo asked.  
"If I can help him. I will. But I don't know what he wants help with."  
And when she said that, I could see that we'd done the afternoon all wrong, and there was a much better way.

_Camille_

The only way to avoid my Mother was to stay out of the house at all times. And a girl has only so many places to go before she ran out of hiding places. By her second week in UK my Mom had find out all my usual coffee lounges, the music places that I went too when I wanted to buy a cd, where I was buying my clothes from. She also knew about the park just three blocks from the house where I went hiding when I wanted to think about Aria, and the library that I hid when the world was getting too much for me. The only place she didn't know about was Logan's house. And that's because she didn't know about him; which was weird cause I thought it would be the first thing that Dad was going to tell her. But he didn't and I can't complain about it.

Logan was considerably calmer than when we first came back from the holiday. He'd stopped locking himself in the bathroom, and he could even sit next to me without getting all tensed up. I noticed though that James was always around whenever I visited and I got the impression that he was there to keep him in order. I had this idea that if I talked to Logan more I'd realise how boring he really was and then I'd be over my inane feelings. But the bad thing is that those stupid feelings only grew stronger. And if could understand what was going on in his head it would all be better but Logan was a closed book and it was driving me crazy.

The next time that all four of us met up, Jo told us that she and Kendall had gone to see Peggy out in the countryside.  
"Hmm...my ex-wife was called Peggy," Logan said his attention focused on his newspaper. I wasn't really paying attention to the conversation but I tuned in when I heard his voice.  
"Yeah, look at that coincidence," Kendall said sarcastically. Logan continued to read the paper. "God," Kendall muttered and Logan looked at him over the paper.  
"What?"  
"It was your Peggy you dumbass," I chocked on my coffee and Logan's face paled. I thought he was about to have a stroke or something because he didn't look very well.

"Y-you've never...n-never met my Peggy, ex-my Peggy...My ex," Logan stuttered.  
"That's what we're saying to you," Kendall said "Jo and I went down to Torley Heath, to talk to her."  
"Torley Heath...You went to see her?" Logan mumbled and I felt bad of him.  
Kendall sighed. He picked up the Telegraph that Logan had left to fall on the table and started leafing through it, kind of a spoof on his previous lack of interest. Logan snatched the paper away from him.  
"What the hell did you do that for?" he demanded angrily. I've said before that angry Logan is sexy Logan, huh? Yeah, I stand by that statement.  
"We thought it might help," Jo said.  
"How?"  
"We went down to ask her whether she'd take you back," Kendall said and I started coughing and spurting, this time I was really close to chocking on my coffee. Logan gave me a pat on the back and I nodded to let him know that I was okay but he didn't take his hand away.  
"Are you insane?" he asked looking from Jo to Kendall and back "On whose authority did you do that?"  
"On whose authority?" Kendall said and chuckled "On my authority. Free fucking country."  
"And what would you have done if she'd burst into tears and said, you know, 'I'd love him to come back'?"  
"I would have helped you pack," Kendall said and I was grateful that Logan had taken my coffee away when I started coughing the last time "But there's no way for that cause a) she has someone else and b) her opinion on you is not the best there is."  
"If you'd ever listened to anything I'd ever said about my ex-wife, you could have saved yourself a trip," Logan said "You thought she'd take me back? You thought I'd go back?"  
"It deserved a try," Jo said still looking at the table.  
"How did he make you go with him?" Logan asked and Jo's head snapped up.  
"It was her idea actually," Kendall said pointing at the blonde.  
"Well, then, you are a bigger fool than he is."  
"We all need help," Jo started "We don't all know what we want. You've all helped me. I wanted to help you. And I thought it was the best way."

"How would it work now when it didn't work before?" Logan asked in a much lower voice than before. Jo didn't say anything to that so I did.  
"So which of us wouldn't try to make something work now that didn't work before? Now that we've seen what the alternative is. A big fucking nothing."  
"So what would you want back, Kendall?" Logan asked.  
"Everything," he said with a shrug "Well..maybe not everything. Lucy can stay the fuck away. But I want my band back."  
"That's stupid. The band was rubbish, well," I stopped as soon as I saw the look on his face "Not rubbish...But not...you know," I said and he nodded. He knew.  
"Still, I want my band back! I want my band back."  
"You just said that," I told him.  
"I haven't said it often enough. I WANT MY FREAKING BAND BACK!" he cried out and several people turned towards us "Wow," he leaned back on his seat "That felt nice. What do you want Loges?"  
"I," he said and stood up "Want another cappuccino, anyone else?" he asked looking around the table.  
"Don't be such a coward dude, what do you want?" Kendall asked again. Logan rolled his eyes and sat back down.  
"And what good will it do to me if I tell you?"  
"I don't know. Say it, and well, see what we see. You got three wishes," Kendall said holding up three fingers.  
"Ok...I wish I could have my medical license back."  
"Why don't you wish that you would never lose it in the first place?" I asked but he ignored me.  
"And I wish...I wish that Liam was alive," he said and he smiled and I felt my heartbeats picking up...oh well, I had to get used to the fact that whenever I was around him I'd be reduced to a teenager with a crush "And, I guess I wish I was a more forthcoming person, say like James," he said with a small shrug.

"So you don't wish to be less of an arsehole?" Kendall asked grinning and Logan gave him the finger.  
"Touché dude," he said.

"I wish Aria would come back," I mumbled and they all looked at me.  
"Yeah well, I expected that," Kendall said "What else?"  
"I wish that my mother knew that I'm still here, and that...that I felt like I was worth being here," I said.

Now that was deep. I had never told anyone about that. I know what your opinion of me must be by now and I'm not playing any sympathy cards; I'm not trying to convince you that I'm the way I'm because of my insecurities. They play a part in it but I'm the way I'm because I want to be like that. And people usually see my attitude and think that I'm a superficial bully but that's not true. I have problems and insecurities...who doesn't?

And then Logan did this thing that I hate, this thing that makes my heart flatter; he reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. He was trying to kill me, that's the only explanation.

"How about you Jo?" Kendall asked looking sideways at the blonde.  
"I told you before. When you said Cosmic Obama could only arrange things."  
"Tell everyone else."  
"I wish that Alex woke up."  
"Why don't you wish for her to never have the accident? Never be in a comma?" I asked and Jo blinked at me.  
"Who would I be then?" she asked and I looked at her confused "I've spent my teenage years worrying about Alex. And now that I'm an adult I still worry about her. That's all I've ever done since I was seventeen..."  
"Seven years are not that long a time."  
"They're long enough. I don't know who I'd be if it wasn't for the accident. Like for example, if Aria hadn't happened to you, who would you be?"  
"I'd be someone different," I muttered. Jo gave me a nod.  
"Exactly."

**A/N: Did you like it? Yes? No? Maybe? Let me know! Until the next time, bye! **


	12. Help

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the series, not the group, and definitely not Nick Hornby's book; I just based the story on it. **

**A/N: I'm not very thrilled with this chapter. There's just something about it...it feels, forced? I don't know, maybe I'm wrong, I'm gonna let you decide if it's good or not. This story is coming to an end soon, there will probably a couple more chapters and then that's it! Anyway, here's the chapter **

Chapter 12

Help

_Logan_

It was intended as an enormous gesture, I think. As a way of wrapping up things nicely. But I don't understand why. See as a realist I never understood this fascination people had with happy endings; I only saw that type of closure as something fitted for a fairytale, not real life. Real life was hard and cruel; it could break you in a simple moment, or make you for that matter.

It was about two or three weeks after the 'I wish' conversation in Starbucks. I think I should've known that if someone was going to try to 'fix' everyone that would be Jo; those quite ones are always the worst, as Agatha Christie wrote in 'The body in the Library' all those years ago (Published in 1942 if it's needed to be exact.) But I wasn't careful, I had relaxed. And just like me Kendall and Camille had relaxed, we were comfortable with each other, so much so that when Jo mysteriously started wondering about Kendall's ex-girlfriend, we thought nothing of it.

"Your ex's name is Lucy, right?" she asked offhandedly and Kendall chocked on his coffee. He started coughing and Jo patted his back. Kendall wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at her.

"Yeah," he said his voice hoarse. Jo nodded to herself.

"And she lives...where exactly?" she asked.

"King's Cross," he said and Jo bit on her lip. She nodded again and leaned a bit forward.  
"Where on King's Cross?"  
"Do you think I'm stupid Jo?"  
"Do you want me to answer that Kendall?" she deadpanned batting her lashes. Kendall set his jaw.  
"I'm not telling you."  
"Why not?"

"Because, I don't want you to go knocking on her door asking her if she wants to take me back!"  
"What would she say if I did?"  
"I don't care!" Kendall snapped. Jo frowned.  
"Why not?" she asked again.  
"Because _I _don't want her back," he said slowly.

"You don't?" Camille asked butting in the conversation. Kendall shook his head no "Why? Got someone else?" the brunette asked raising an eyebrow. Kendall's eyes swiftly glimpsed over at Jo but it was so quick you could've missed it, and Camille missed it. But I didn't.  
"No," I muttered in disbelief. Kendall's eyes widened in alarm as his gaze found mine. I looked from him to Jo and back and the corners of my mouth tagged upwards. Kendall made a motion with his hand for me to drop it.  
"Logan why are you smiling like that?" Jo asked frowning "Stop it, it's creepy," she said when I didn't answer. But seeing Kendall pleading me with his eyes was too funny for me to just drop it.  
"Kenny," I said crossing my arms over my chest "I think you should tell Jo exactly where Lucy lives...I mean if you have a say on my personal life then I should have one in yours right?" I asked raising an eyebrow "And I'm sure that Jo and Lucy will have TONS of things to talk about."  
Jo's reaction was immediate. Her face paled up and the straw she was playing with fell on the table. Then she turned beet red and looked over to Kendall who was glaring at me murderously. Camille feeling out of the loop turned to me.  
"What's going on?" she asked. I shrugged but kept smiling.  
"Dunno, ask Kendall," I said inkling my head towards the blonde.  
"What's going on?" Camille said again looking at him.  
"N-nothing," he stuttered and took his eyes off of me.  
"Nothing?" she asked in dubiously. Kendall nodded.  
"I just don't want Jo to go find Lucy because I don't want Lucy," Kendall muttered. Camille nodded.  
"Yeah, I remember all those nice names you used about her that day in the pool," Camille said with a smirk. Kendall found her eyes and smiled back.  
"What pool? When?" I asked a little too fast and a bit too high pitched. It was Kendall's turn to look at me like he was Joker.  
"Why so anxious to find out Logie?" he asked and I groaned; that nickname has been my nemesis since James came up with it in pre-kindergarten.

"Not anxious," I said with a shrug "Just wondering."

"The first day after you bailed on us, Camille and I went to the pool...it was a nice day, huh Camille?" Kendall asked tauntingly.  
"Shut up Kendall," Camille ordered.

"The first day?" I mumbled and I was quite terrified by the fact that my voice sounded so weak, but I couldn't help it. And I didn't really care what the others would think of it. Camille quickly shook her head.  
"No, he's just stupid, it was actually the day before you left," she said reassuringly.

And the simple fact of Kendall messing the days up had done the whole trick. I was so upset, and angry and hurt thinking that Camille would spent her first day after our kiss chilling by the pool with Kendall. Which of course makes me a sixteen year old girl, but I've come to terms with it by now. Camille reached for my hand under the table and gave it a quick squeeze before pulling away. I didn't really know how to describe what was going on between Camille and I -I don't really need to label it, do I? – but I was certain that I liked it. And that scared me.

And like that we moved on, and started a quest to find the best adjectives to describe our exes. And the Lucy moment passed, like so many moments in those days, without us noticing. But it was there.

On the big day itself, I had lunch with James, granted, I didn't know that it was going to be a big day. I hadn't seen him much that week because Gustavo demanded him to be over at the channel 24/7 and James always the professional didn't even protest. And he still looked impeccable. When I worked the graveyard shift back when I was still a doctor, the next day I would never be able to wake up before noon, and when I did I'd have black circles under my eyes, my feet would ache, and I would in general be a total mess. But not James, nothing in his appearance would make you believe that he hadn't slept at all in the last twenty-four hours.

"Dude when we go home, you go straight to bed, capisce?" I asked taking a swig of my beer.

"Sure doc," James said sarcastically picking at his food with his fork.  
"You know, this is for eating, not playing."  
"Really? Hmm no wonder why it's such a dull game," James deadpanned. See now that was a telltale that James was tired; he only turned sarcastic when he didn't get his eight hours of beauty sleep. Mean as it is, I enjoy riling him up when he is like that.

"Let me just..." I said and raised my hand towards his hair. James swiftly pulled away.  
"What do you think you're doing?"  
"I'm trying to help; your hair is all ruffled..." I didn't manage to finish my sentence; James screamed and grabbed a mirror from the inside pocket of his jacket. He checked himself on the shinny reflection and I started chuckling "Can't believe you fell for that!" I said clapping once. James glared at me as he patted his shinny hair.  
"Not funny dude."

"Oh but it was, trust me," I said and took a bite of my stake. James kept glaring as I ate. And then he smiled. He took a sip of his wine and fixed his eyes on me. After a while I started squirming; the way he looked at me was weird and it made me uncomfortable "Stop it," I ordered. James shrugged.

"What? I'm not doing anything," he said innocently. I tried to ignore him but it was impossible to do so for a long period of time.  
"Seriously James, stop," I said again.

"Dude I have no idea what you're talking about."  
"Staring is impolite."  
"Who's staring? I don't see anyone, do you?" he asked hooking an eyebrow. I groaned and took another sip of my beer "So..." James trailed off. I let down my fork and looked at him "How is Camille?" he asked waggling his eyebrows. Oh great...  
"She's fine," I said aloofly. James nodded.  
"Fine, that's good. She's not still thinking about killing herself?" he asked.  
"Last time I checked no," I said. My stomach turned as I imagined Camille back on Topper's House standing on the ledge...  
"You okay?" James asked and he sounded worried. I shook my head to shoo the thoughts away.  
"Peachy," I said with a fake smile. James decided not to comment on that one.

"So why the change of...heart?" he asked and I swallowed.  
"What?"  
"From what you told me Camille was deadest on jumping, what changed?" he asked and the taunting smirk was back on his face.

"N-nothing changed...and if it did, how would I know?"  
"I thought you two were..."  
"We aren't!" I cut him off immediately  
"You aren't friends?" James asked curiously but he couldn't keep the damn smirk off his lips. I had just put my foot in my mouth.  
"No, I mean yes, I mean..."  
"What do you mean Logie?" I sighed.  
"I don't know," I said and hid my face in my hands.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" James asked rhetorically and I peeked at him through my fingers. James rolled his eyes "Do you want me to tell you what I think?" he asked and I nodded. James nodded as well "Okay, I think you like her."  
"I do like her," I said.  
"No, no. I don't mean like her in the general sense of the word, like you like Kendall and Jo for example; because you do like them too," James informed me "I mean you _like _her, like her."

"I don't..." I started again but James raised his hand to stop me.  
"This is what I think, remember? I think that you like her, and she likes you. And I know that you know it, so don't play dumb. And denial is overused; it's a story arc used every time there's the potential of a new couple in a show..."  
"My life is not a TV show."  
"But it could be," James responded "And since I know you practically since forever, I know that I'm right. What I fail to see is why you still haven't done anything about it."

James was right, and that's a rare occurrence. I did like Camille. It was weird considering how we met; what with me tackling her on the floor while she tried to kill herself. It's also weird because she could make my blood boil with anger with just one word, she could irritate me to no end and she loved playing mind games but I still felt like I was pulled towards her. And it all had started long before the kiss; it had started that very night, when she slapped Steve after calling me a prick. But back then it was a simple attraction. After Tenerife it was more than that.

Still, even if I liked her, that wouldn't change anything. On the contrary, it should be because I liked her that I'd stay away. My life had been one big mistake after another and the prognosis about that changing weren't any good.

"Logan you know how much I hate it when you have your side of the conversation inside your head," James said after a while. I gave him an apologetic smile and ran a hand through my hair "Hey c'mon, talk to me," he pressed.  
"There's nothing to talk about," I said with a small shrug.

"Sure there is! First of all, tell me, am I right?"

"Yeah, yes James, you are right," James fist bumped the air in excitement.

"Okay, so, when are you gonna ask her out?"  
"I won't," I said simply. James frowned.  
"What do you mean you won't? You just said..."  
"I know what I said, and I mean I will not ask her out. I don't know if you noticed James but my life isn't exactly normal. Why would I want to drag Camille into it?"

"Because you like her?" James more stated than asked. I shook my head "So you won't even give her a say in this one?"

"It's better that way. I don't want to screw her life up. If we get together in five years time she'll regret it and then she'll end up hating me and I don't..."  
"Loges, when you run so far ahead of yourself I seriously want to kill you," James cut me off "Screw her life up? You saved her damn life! She wouldn't be around if you hadn't stop her that night. And why would she end up hating you?"

"Peggy did," I said simply and James sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
"Dude, do I need to tell you that Camille is not Peggy?"  
"No I know that but Peggy was my wife and she ended up hating me anyway..."  
"Because you cheated on her with a sixteen year old," James said "Look, I get it, after everything that happened, it's scary getting back out there. But don't let something good walk by you just because you're scared. You'll end up regretting it Logie."

The conversation ended abruptly with a call from Jo, calling a meeting at four o'clock in the vast and invariably empty basement of Starbucks in Upper street, one of those rooms with a lot of sofas and tables, that would feel exactly like your living room, if your living room had no windows, and you only ever drank out of paper cups that you never threw away.  
"Why in the basement?" I asked.

"Because I've got some private things to tell you guys."  
"Aren't all of our conversations kinda private? You never had a problem discussing around people before."  
"This is different," she said and I heard her shuffling her feet.  
"Different how?"  
"Can I plead the fifth?" she asked and then she sighed "Look just get down here by four and I'll explain everything."  
I didn't have a chance to ask her anything else because she hung up on me. James said that he'd drive me there when I told him about the meeting and I said that he didn't have too but he insisted. The traffic wasn't as terrible as I had expected and we were there early.  
"Well, I'll probably be home in an hour," I said as I got out of the car. James turned off the engine and got out as well "What are you doing?"  
"I'm coming with," he said laconically.  
"What?"  
"I'm coming with, I was invited," he said and started off towards Starbucks. I looked at his retrieving back trying to make some sense but I couldn't. As I approached the coffee place a young couple walk in, just ahead of me, and immediately went downstairs. Coupled with James invitation to one of our meetings this looked suspicious. The first person I saw at the bottom of the stairs was a woman. She looked vaguely familiar with longish straight black hair and slight built. And as I tried to work out who she was I caught sight with my peripheral of Peggy, she was at a table in the far corner looking towards me, not smiling. James was walking towards her and I rushed after him; leaving these two alone was never a wise choice.

"Hey Pegs," I said and my ex-wife glare at me.

"You can at least pretend not to be a bitch Peggy, you know we are around other people," James said in a loud whisper. Peggy ignored him.  
"So," I asked bouncing on the balls of my feet "What brings you here?"  
"That woman who came over to my place the other day called, she said that I could help."  
"Oh...did she happen to explain how?"  
Peggy snorted. I got the feeling that she was going to snort whatever I said, that snorting was going to be her preferred method of communication. James was about to tell her something but Jo clapped her hands, effectively cut him off, and stepped in the centre of the room.

"Okay, I want to say first of all, thanks to everyone that's here tonight, I appreciate it that you took the time to show up," she said with a warm smile "This, this is a sort of intervention..." Kendall whistled.  
"We're curing suicide the American way!" the blonde exclaimed.

I noticed that Kendall had one of his arms dropped on the shoulders of the guy who'd walked in ahead of me and that Camille's father was standing next to the vaguely familiar woman who I'd first seen. She was wearing a smart pant suit and she had a pleasant, but bored, smile plastered on her face. Camille was sitting on an armchair next to them but she kept her head lowered looking at her hands as if they were the most interesting thing she'd ever seen.

"This one is kind of different though...Because you don't organise the intervention for us; we are the ones calling out to you. We are asking you to intervene, we are saying to you that we need your help," Jo paused and ran her eyes over each face in the room "Ugh, I think introductions are in order; in Kendall's corner we have his ex, Lucy, and his mate Carlos who flew in from America for tonight. Camille has her parents and Logan has his best friend and his ex-wife. On my corner I have..." she stopped and I could see her swallowing. She turned behind her head and beckoned someone to come forward.  
There was another person in the room but I hadn't taken notice of her because she was hiding in the shadows. She was taller than Jo but had the same hair colour. Her skin was darker than Jo's and her eyes looked brighter. She stood by the organizer of this intervention and waved awkwardly at us.  
"On my corner I have Mercedes Griffin," Jo said and her voice came a little strained "She was my best friend when I lived in the States and I hadn't seen her in seven years," then she turned and talked directly to Mercedes "It means so much that you showed up," she said and the other woman offered her a smile. Jo drew a shaky breath, cleared her throat and returned her attention to us "So here's my idea, we spend some time talking to our people, have a little catch-up, and then we swap round, and go talk to some other person's people. So it's actually more of a cross between a real intervention and a school parent's evening; because the friends and family sort of sit in a corner, waiting for people to visit them.  
"And what's the point of this exercise exactly?" I wondered loudly.  
"I don't know...I guess we might learn a few things, about each other, and ourselves. End up not wanting to kill ourselves," Jo shrugged.

Did I want to learn things about the others? Yeah, I think I did. Did I need to ask their friends and family about them? No, I could ask them. I couldn't see what Jo was hoping to get out of this. It obviously made us all jumpy; Kendall was keeping his distance from Lucy, only talking with his friend Carlos. Camille wasn't looking at her mother and I was trying not to swear Peggy to next Thursday. I didn't believe that we'd benefit from it.

The only thing that I'd learned in the last few months was that prison wasn't my thing. And that sleeping with sixteen-year-olds is never a good idea, even if you're drank. But, you know, I could have had a wild stab in the dark about both of those things beforehand.

"So," Jo went on "Who's going to go where?"  
At that moment, several French teenage punks appeared in our midst carrying coffee mugs. They headed for an empty table next to Camille's armchair.  
"Ugh, where do you think you're going?" Jo asked "This basement is booked for the evening. Upstairs all of you," they stared at her "Oh c'mon, don't give me that. I know you understand what I'm saying. Now, we don't have all day, so off you go." She shooed them towards the stairs, and away they went, uncomplainingly.

With a sigh and a look at James I sat down by Peggy. My ex-wife ever so subtly scooted away, eliciting a screeching sound from her chair. James joined us and patted my back. It was a sort of all-purpose crowded-party gesture, some kind of a cross between 'I'm just getting a drink' and 'I'll give you a ring', with maybe a little bit of 'Can we have the bill, please?'. The tension in our table made me fidgety and I looked around to see how everyone else was doing. My eyes finally landed on Camille and I found her staring at me. I offered her a smile and wished for the night to end up as fast and painless as it could.

_Jo_

Everyone seemed to be having an OK time. Which was encouraging. I was worried they'd all turn on me with fire and pitchforks and start chasing me around London. But it was all nice and I was happy because I'd spent ages organizing that intervention. I had used Kendall's idea about Googling people up, so I searched for his manager and I got hold of his email address. And he gave me Carlos' phone and I stayed up until like three in the morning so I could ring him once he came home from work. When I told him how messed up Kendall was, Carlos panicked and got really worried and said he was in. I didn't invite Lucy, and not because of what happened between Kendall and I; I just knew he wouldn't want her there, he made that perfectly clear. But Carlos phoned me when he arrived in London and said that she was coming so I couldn't do anything

It was easier with Camille's parents, well with her father at least; he was eager to do whatever needed to help his daughter, her mother couldn't see the point saying that if Camille wanted to commit suicide she'd do so no matter what they said but I guess in the end her ex-husband managed to convince her.  
Getting a hold Peggy was almost as difficult as calling up Mercedes. After the little conversation Kendall and I had with her she wasn't so happy to hear from me but she agreed to come over after a lot of coaxing. Calling Mercedes was one of the hardest things I'd ever done; when I left the States I hadn't told her anything, I couldn't find the nerve. So I just packed my things up and went my way.  
"Now, will you finally tell me why I had to make this long, long, long trip?" my childhood best friend questioned crossing her arms. I decided not to tell her from the phone. It's not an easy conversation and it's better to have it face to face.

"In New Year's Eve, I tried to kill myself," I said and heard her gasp.  
I told her everything. About Topper's House, the party where I punched Steve, Camille's Angel, the holiday at Tenerife, and most importantly what happened at the Tenerife...

"Get out!" Mercedes exclaimed pushing my shoulder. I giggled and shushed her, it felt so nice to be able to talk to her again "Who's Kendall again?" she asked her eyes flickering between the two guys. I pointed at him and Mercedes gave me an appreciative smile "Nice," she admonished.  
"Shut up."  
"So? Are you two going out now?"  
"No."  
"Why not?"

"Because it's just something that happened..."  
"Like a one night stand?" she asked and I shook my head.  
"No, not with Kendall," I said and she hooked an eyebrow. I sighed "It's complicated."  
"Honey, we are talking about _your _love life, of course it's complicated."  
"Ha...story of my life."  
"You're not really thinking about killing yourself anymore, do you?" she asked warily "Because I don't want to maim my first trip in London by going to your funeral."  
"Oh, ok, I'll make sure you're not invited then," I said coyly and she rolled her eyes.  
"Cute...Jo you're one of the strongest people I know, you can't just give up," she said seriously.  
"Yes but I'm so tired, and the loneliness has started getting to me..."  
"I don't think you're alone," Mercedes said looking around the room "You organised this intervention for three people that you care about. Three people that took you on a holiday in Canary Islands. Three people that didn't let you kill yourself and didn't criticize you because of your decision to stay by Alex's side. I don't know what that says to you, but it says to me that these people will be there when you need them."

"Maybe you're right..."  
"No, not maybe honey. I am right. Now, will you agree with me and be a good girl and give the poor guy a chance?" she asked peering at Kendall "Because if you don't maybe I should."  
"You wouldn't."  
"Wanna try me?"

"It's just that I have so many things to sort out...I don't know if it's the right time to pursue a relationship."  
"There's not **a **right time for that kind of staff Jo, there's only **in **time or too late. And you don't want to be too late."

Pondering on her words I looked around the room; Logan and James were talking animatedly while Peggy glared at them, Kendall was laughing at something that Carlos was telling him while Lucy watched, and Camille and her parents were shouting. Which might have been a good sign, if they were shouting about the right things, but every now and then you could hear Camille yelling the loudest about something, and it never seemed to be anything that would help. Kendall looked over at the petite brunette as well when she groaned loudly and Logan's head snapped around at the sound. Something told me that this was not going to have a happy ending.  
My eyes turned from Peggy to Lucy and I felt conflicted, I hated that they just had to sit there, so I wanted to go talk to one of them. But Peggy didn't really like me, and Lucy...Well I didn't want to go and talk to Lucy.

"I think it would be fun," Mercedes said reading my mind.  
"Fun?"  
"Yeah, you'll get Kendall all flustered as he'll try to listen in on your conversation with his ex."  
"That's not funny, it's mean."  
"You say potato, I say potato," she said waving her hand dismissively. I felt her hands on my back and she pushed me forward "C'mon go."  
"And leave you alone?"  
"Isn't the point of tonight rotation between friends and family? So you don't end up jumping off the roof? Well as the host you should make the start," Mercedes pointed out. I was still not convinced.  
"Oh c'mon just go. I bet that someone will feel sorry for me and come over to chat," I nibbled on my lip.  
"I'll be back in five minutes."  
"Just go already."

Kendall looked at me curiously as I walked towards them but I ignored him and went straight to Lucy. I tried not to laugh when his expression turned frightened.

"Hi," I said extending my hand towards her "I'm Jo."  
"I'm Lucy," she said with a pleasant smile "But of course you know that," she muttered with a nod of her head.  
"Yeah I do..." I could feel Kendall's eyes on me but I didn't turn around.

"I think it's a very nice idea, unorthodox maybe, but it's good," Lucy complimented my idea.

"I just wanted to show them that people still care," I said "I mean I'm almost certain by now that we won't go through with this, but I know that it still crosses our minds," Lucy chuckled dryly.  
"I never thought I'd be in an intervention trying to convince Kendall not to kill himself."  
"Everyone has a breaking point...Kendall reached his after the band split up."  
"Still, Kendall was always too much in love with himself to do that," Lucy said and I frowned at her.

"Really?" I asked and she nodded.  
It didn't sit well with me; sure Kendall can be a little too self-centred. But getting to know him better I saw that he was also very caring and compassionate. And for a person that loved himself as much as Lucy implied he had a very health self-sarcasm. But I could be wrong; Lucy was his girlfriend, she knew him better and longer than I did. Or maybe she just didn't know him.

_Camille_

It was bad enough to have both of my parents in the same room. It was worst that I had to see Logan engaging in small talk with his ex-wife, while I had both of my parents in the same room. I couldn't concentrate on what my father was saying as I found myself staring at the blonde woman more times than not; at least Logan looked much happier talking to James than her.

My mom was done playing nice, I think three weeks were a new record for her. She was bored, she didn't want to be there and she looked like it. I don't know why Jo thought that it would be a nice idea to invite them, a conversation with Steve would help me more and that says a lot. Hmm, maybe if Steve was there I could even make Logan jealous. But he wasn't and I had to sit through a lecture of my father on why living my life was my duty, something that I had to do, something that I had no right to throw away, And then my mom had to bring up those damn earrings.

We're never going to forget about them. We'll be talking about those bloody earrings on her deathbed. They're almost like her way of swearing. When I'm angry with her I say fuck a lot, and when she's angry with me she says earrings a lot. And it's not like they were her earrings anyway; they were Aria's, and like I told her a billionth times, I never touched them. She has this thing that all through those horrible first few weeks, when all we did was sit by the phone and wait for the police to tell us they'd found her body, the earring were on Aria's bedside table. Mom reckons she went and sat on the bed every night, and she claims she has photographic memory of the things she saw every night, and she can still see the earrings now, next to an empty coffee cup...although Aria didn't like coffee and never drunk it. And then when we started to sort of drift back into our lives, when I moved out, the earrings disappeared. So of course I must have taken them, because I am the problem child. And I am, I admit it. But I would never take something of Aria's without her consent.

I don't know this for sure, and I don't want to sound all self-pitiful, but parents must have favourite kids, right? How could they not? When I voiced my question once, Dad said I was being stupid and that they loved us both the same. But how could they? Aria was the smart one, the one that did well at school and read books, the one that talked to Dad about his boring job and listened to mom when she had one of her crisis. I was always 'inside my head' as mom said. And well let's say that they did love us the same, because I don't want to believe that my parents were lying about that, why couldn't they just show it? Was I so hard to love?

"What part of I want your help in order not to kill myself, don't you understand?" I snapped at her as she was going on and on and on about how disrespectful I was. She shut up and looked at me.  
"Well what do you want us to do?" my Dad interjected.  
"Oh I don't know, maybe act like my parents? Stop comparing me to Aria, because I'll never be her? Stop giving me money and start giving me advices?" I yelled. I don't know where all that was coming from, but I felt like I had to tell them or else I was going to burst.

"You are not a child anymore Camille," was all that my Mom could come up with.

So the moment my Mom said that, it was sort of like when that guy jumped off the roof. I mean it wasn't as horrible, and sure no one died. But you know how you keep things tucked up in the back of your head in a sort of rainy day box? For example, you think, one day, if I can't handle it any more, then I'll top myself. Or one day, if I'm really fucking up badly, then I'll just give up and ask my Mom and Dad to bail me out. That mental box, it was empty. If my parents couldn't save me, then who could?  
And then I did what I normally do in situations like that; as I felt the tears in my eyes, and brought my hand to my mouth to keep back I sob I turned around and ran out. I left, even though I was supposed to be talking to someone else's friends and family afterwards. And when I got up to the top of the stairs, I felt stupid, but it was too late to go back down again, so I just walked straight out the door and down Upper Street and into the Angel underground...I heard someone calling my name but I didn't stop.

_Kendall _

The minute I saw Carlos down the basement I felt this uncontrollable little flicker of hope. Like, this is it! He'd come to rescue me! And then I saw Lucy and snapped out of it pretty quickly. What was Jo playing on? Why was Lucy there? Didn't I make myself crystal clear when I said that I didn't want to get back with her? At least it looked like she felt as miserable being there as I was to see her. But Carlos, he was another case. There was so much love and concern in his face, that made me feel a little teary eye. It was obvious though that they had pretty much no idea what they were doing down there.  
"Kendall!" Carlos exclaimed throwing his arms around me with such a force we almost fell on the ground. I chuckled and patted his back.  
"Hey Carlitos," I said and I could feel my t-shirt getting all moist-y.  
"I-I missed you," he mumbled. I pulled him at arm's length and looked him in the eye.  
"I missed you too," I admitted. Lucy cleared her throat and I was forced to look over at her "Hi Luce," I said with a fake smile.  
"Hey," but she didn't say anything else so I returned to Carlos.

"My, my, Carlitos, look at you," I said pulling at the lapels of his suede jacket; it looked like it cost a lot of money. He was also wearing a pair of white corduroys, and his hair was all spiked up.

"Dad said I couldn't look like I used to, I'm an officer of the law now, I have to grow up," Carlos said and it was like he had it memorized. I chuckled; Mr Garcia was never thrilled with the idea of his youngest son being in a band instead of following on his steps, stupid bugger got his wish in the end "Kendall..." Carlos trailed of and I shook my head to clear it a little "You weren't really going to do it, right?" he asked and looked at me like he was begging me to tell him he was right.  
"Actually..." but then my words failed me and I just pinned in his eyes.  
"Hmm, I never pegged you for a quitter," Lucy said tilting her head on the side.  
"Hey, be careful what you say; this is the Quitter's Club headquarters."

"Yup, but from what I hear, the rest of them had good reasons. What have you got Ken?" Lucy asked.

"Nothing, I have nothing, that's why I thought about..."  
"That was your reason?" Lucy asked and scoffed.  
"What the fuck is your problem Luce?" I asked stepping into her personal space "No one forced you to come here."  
"Hey Ken, calm down," Carlos admonished stepping between Lucy and I. I huffed and took several steps away from her. Carlos turned around and whispered something to her. Lucy crossed her arms and walked to the other side of the table.  
"What did you tell her?" I asked when Carlos came back.  
"That I brought her here to help, not to be a bitch," Carlos said and I was surprised at his use of foul language; he rarely if ever swore.

"How's the force treating you?" I asked and Carlos gave me one of his best smiles.  
"You know it's not that bad...I thought I'd hate it but I don't. And it's not that hard either, well..." he trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck. I smirked.

"What did you do Carlos?"  
"I might have shot John on the foot," John is Carlos' older brother and he's a police officer as well.  
"You did what?"  
"It was an accident! I didn't even know that the gun was loaded and I just squeezed the trigger a tiny bit..." Carlos didn't continue and I burst out laughing.  
"Ah, oh man," I said and clapped him on the back "Did I tell you already how much I missed you?"

"You told me...but you don't have to miss me; you can come back."  
"Carlos..."  
"Your mother was asking me about you the other day and I didn't know what to tell her. You stopped answering my mails Ken, and I have no idea why," Carlos said and there was a tone of dejection in his voice.

"I can't go back home Carlos."  
"Bullshit," he said and I rolled my eyes "No, Ken, bull seriously. I went back, you can too."  
"But there was something for you to go back too! I have nothing!"

"Your mom and Katie will be so excited to know they count as nothing," Carlos said seriously.  
"I didn't say that," I said swiftly. I sighed, I didn't want to fight with Carlos, I hated fighting with Carlos.  
I saw Jo approaching us and I looked at her bewildered but she didn't pay any attention to me. Instead she went straight to Lucy and introduced herself. I felt a bile raising on my throat.  
"Are you okay?" Carlos asked worried.  
"Ugh, I don't know," I said without taking my eyes off the blonde. Carlos followed my gaze.  
"That's the one that called me?" he asked and I nodded "What's her name again?"  
"Jo," I said. Carlos narrowed his eyes at me and a goofy smile appeared on his lips.  
"Dude, you so like her," he said and bumped his shoulder against mine. I made a horse noise with my mouth "You like her, you want to kiss her, you want to..." Carlos sing sang. I pushed my hand over his mouth to shut him up.  
"Shut it," I ordered and Carlos snorted. I sighed and lowered my head "Okay, if I say that I like her, will you stop?" he nodded. I took my hand off and Carlos started laughing "What is so amusing?"  
"Dude you fell in love with a girl that you met the night you tried to off yourself. And you met her because she was trying to do the same thing! How is that not funny?"  
"Hey, whoa, wait, who said anything about being in love?" I said in a panicky voice. Carlos grimaced and patted my head.  
"There there Kendall, realization is the first part, and in your case always the hardest one," I shoved him away from me and Carlos chuckled.  
"You changed," I said accusingly. Carlos gave me a weird look.  
"So did you."  
"That's what happens when you get so far away from me; you're around other people and they're good influence and they mess you up. They make you a better person," I said and Carlos chuckled again rolling his eyes.

"I take it back, you haven't changed."  
And then Camille started yelling at her parents that they should act like her parents. And her mom said she wasn't a child anymore; saying in other words that they could do nothing to help her. And I winced. I saw the tears in Camille's eyes, and I saw the way her shoulders hunched. After a long silent second during which we all looked at her, she turned around and ran out. We all blinked and I looked at Jo who stared back and then we simultaneously turned to Logan who was gazing at Camille's parents like he wanted to kill them. James whispered something in his ear and Logan pushed back his chair, got on his feet and ran after the brunette.

**A/N: Did you like it? Did it feel forced to you? Yes? No? Maybe? Let me know!**


	13. Thames, a guitar pick and a phone number

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the series, not the group, and definitely not Nick Hornby's book; I just based the story on it. **

**A/N: Okay, for some reason this chapter gave me a really hard time, and I don't know how it turned out. I think it's okay but I have some issues with it. Anyway, enjoy! **

Chapter 13

Thames, a guitar pick, and a phone number

_Logan_

"...will you just stop listening into other peoples' conversation?" James was in the middle of explaining to me why Griffin always needed to wear hot pants, when he snapped and glared towards Peggy. She jumped a little on her seat and her blue eyes turned to him.  
"It's just really fascinating," she muttered and I frowned at her; unlike James who obviously had his attention divided between Peggy and me, I was solely focused on him, so I had no idea what they were talking about.  
"What is?" I asked confused.  
"She's so tiny and yet so loud," she muttered. James scoffed.  
"Look at you talking about tiny people," he mumbled and this time Peggy was the one doing the glaring. I was about to return to our conversation about Griffin when I heard a loud groan. My head snapped around and I saw Camille pressing her fingers on her forehead. Peggy whistled.  
"Boy, she has issues," she muttered.  
"Hey, why don't you back off?" James said angrily. You know I don't say it enough, but I'm really grateful to have James in my life. Peggy looked at him affronted.  
"I didn't say anything wrong, it's really kind of obvious that she has issues..."  
"Just shut up Peggy," I said warningly. Peggy's eyes flickered between James and I.  
"What is it with you two? I didn't say anything offensive..."  
"No but you don't know her," I cut her off "So I'd appreciate it if you if you'd shut the fuck up and stopped listening in on her conversation with her parents."  
"It's not like I can help it! They're being so loud!" Peggy said defensively. James grabbed his Ipod and thrust it to her.  
"Here," he said with a fake smile "Listen to some music instead and stop bugging us!" Peggy huffed.  
"Why should I do what you tell me?"  
"Because if you don't I'll tell everyone what happened on the 23d of September in 2004," James said crossing his arms over his chest. Peggy's face paled and she pointed at him. I felt like chuckling.  
"Dude that's a little harsh," I said while making it perfectly clear with my tone that I would have no problem if he proceeded.  
"You wouldn't," Peggy's voice waivered. James raised an eyebrow.  
"Don't push me," he said threateningly. Peggy's eyes fell on the Ipod. She slowly took it in her hands and put the earphones on "Now, where were we?" James said looking back to me. I shook my head "What?"  
"Nothing," I muttered. James scrutinized me for a second but then he shrugged. He looked around the room and focused on the two blondes.  
"You don't think that Jo's friend is in anyway related to Griffin, right?"  
"Well I don't see any horns, or a tail," James frowned "You know telltales that she's the devil's spawn," James had just started laughing when Camille's voice wringed throughout the room.

"What part of I want your help in order not to kill myself, don't you understand?" she yelled and once again I found myself turning around to look at her.  
Camille was panting. Her cheeks were red and her hair was all messed up from the many times she'd run her hands through it. Her mother looked at her passively but I could see that her father wanted to do something to comfort her.  
"Well what do you want us to do?" he interjected and Camille whirled at him her gaze heated.

"Oh I don't know, maybe act like my parents? Stop comparing me to Aria, because I'll never be her? Stop giving me money and start giving me advices?" she cried in frustration and the man lowered his head. Camille's mother straightened her body and looked down at her daughter.

"You are not a child anymore Camille."  
I flinched; her mom had just told her in more or less words that she wouldn't even try to stop her from committing suicide. I expected Camille's thunderous reaction but it never came.  
She looked at her parents, her expression broken, her breathing steadily slowing down. I felt my stomach sinking to my knees. I didn't like that she looked so sad, I wanted her to scream to them, swear, or even start hitting them. But she didn't, she just stood there looking at them like they'd signed her death penalty. And they kind of had.

Her hand came to her mouth and she blinked back her tears and then before I knew it she ran out. And then I felt like hitting someone myself. I looked at her dad -disbelief was written all over his face as he turned to his wife- and I thought I'd feel a bit sorry for the guy, since he at least wanted to help, but no; there was only anger. And well when I turned my eyes to her mom my hands turned into fists involuntarily.

How could they do that? She was their fucking daughter, how could they tell her that? Parents are supposed to love and care about their children no matter how old they are! And they couldn't even pretend!

"Go," James whispered next to me and I looked at him, he handed me his car keys "C'mon go, you know you want to," he pressed.

And I did. I really wanted to go after her. James started tapping his foot on the floor impatiently. I groaned inwardly and grabbed the keys pushing my chair back. As I passed by her parents I had the urge to tell them to fuck off but I didn't. I bit on my tongue and ran up the stairs but when I got out Camille was nowhere to be seen.

I kicked the tire of James' car and started swearing through my teeth. She could be anywhere. I racked my hands through my hair and tried to think. She told me once about that park close to her house; she went there when she wanted to think about Aria, but something told me that she wouldn't choose it that night. And then there was the library two blocks from her house but it was already too late for it to still be open.  
"Think damn it!" I groaned and kicked the tire again.  
I tried to calm down; I couldn't really think when I was agitated. I sighed heavily and leaned against the car thinking back to all of my talks with Camille. I felt my lips twisting upwards; even in this situation thinking about her made me feel better. James was right (I know I said that before) I was going to regret it if I didn't make a move. And I didn't want to regret it.  
I was going over one of our conversations back when we were in Tenerife the day after she found me on the new hotel. And the light bulb flickered in my head; She once told me that the night on Topper's House wasn't the first one, she'd tried to kill herself a couple other times; once by taking pills but her father found her just in time to get her to the hospital and the other time she tried to jump off of London's Bridge, but she got scared.  
Getting there was the easy part. But I couldn't very well stop driving and get out; it's illegal to stop on the bridge. So I had to look for a parking space which was maddening because Camille was depressed and she was thinking about jumping off the freaking bridge and I was looking for a parking space! Parking space!

I'll spare you the details and the swearing because I don't want to bore or offend you. It was twenty minutes later when I finally made it on the bridge. The cars zoomed by really fast, not paying me any attention. I started looking up and down the length of the bridge, but I couldn't see her.  
I was beginning to get panicky; my heartbeats picked up and my breathing became shallow. It was windy up there and I pulled my coat tighter around my body. I dared to look down at Thames thinking that if I saw her down there I would first throw up and then end up doing something pretty stupid. But the only thing I saw were the black waters of the river. I fastened my pace and tried not to think the worst. It was impossible; thoughts of Camille's body floating on the water, her face pale, her skin cold, infiltrated my mind and I felt sick. This couldn't be, it couldn't end like that. She couldn't end it like that!

I was really close to losing it when I saw her; she was on the ledge, her black hair dancing around her because of the wind. Her head was lowered as she was peering down and I briefly wondered what was going through her mind. I swallowed the bile in my throat and took the last few steps towards her. Camille hadn't sensed my presence so I tried to be really smooth when I said,  
"Why don't you get down from there?"  
Still I managed to scare her. Camille let a small yelp and she jumped a little but she didn't slip. My heart went to my throat for a second but then when she stayed up straight on the ledge I let out the breathe I was holding.

"Why should I?" she asked her voice bitter. She turned her gaze away and looked down at Thames again.  
"Camille, just, get down. Let's talk about this," I pleaded her. She scoffed.  
"What is there to talk about? My own mother doesn't care whether I live or die!" she screeched. She started laughing then and made a spin on the ledge her hands extended "Hello world! Will you care if I jump?" she asked loudly. The only answer she got was the noise of the cars running by us and the splashing sound of the water crashing on the lower parts of the bridge. Camille stopped and looked down at me seriously "See? No one cares," she said with a small shrug.  
"I care," I blurted out. Camille shook her head.  
"You don't have to say that Logan. You tried to help, you kept me alive for two months longer, you can stop now. You don't have to..."  
"But I do," I said "I do care Camille. Let me care about you," Camille hid her face in her hands.  
"I'm such a mess..." she mumbled.  
"And so am I, but that didn't stop you from coming to my hotel every day after I bailed on you guys, and talk to me through a locked door. And it won't stop me from persuading you to get down."  
"I don't want to get down," she said and her voice was small and shuttered "I want it to be over. I can't take it anymore, it's too much."  
"Let me help you," Camille chuckled bitterly. She raised her head and looked at me.  
"I wish you could."  
"Let me try," I insisted "Camille you can't give up, not now."

"Why not?"  
"Because I don't want you to. You can't give up because I won't let you. I won't be able to live with myself if you...if..." I couldn't finish my sentence.  
Camille pinned in my eyes and it was like the rest of the world vanished in that moment; there were no cars, no bridge, there was no wind or a river beneath us. We were alone in this in-between place and I existed because she held my gaze. I was drowning in her eyes, in the intensity of her gaze.

I'm generally a closed off person, it's not easy for me to speak about my feelings. It took me ages to tell Peggy that I loved her and even when I did I stumbled over my words so much that I had to repeat it a dozen times for her to understand. On the bridge I stepped out of my comfort zone the moment I told her that I cared. It wasn't something that I could take back and that should scare me but it didn't. She needed to hear what I had to say and I needed to say it out loud. I was done shutting her out and trying to ignore my feelings.

"You're not responsible for my wellbeing Logan, I'm a big girl, as my mother so kindly reminded me," she said misunderstanding my words.  
"No you don't understand; I don't want you to jump, because I don't want to lose you."  
There, I'd gone all the way out. Camille looked at me sceptically, not believing me at first. When she saw that I wasn't going to take it back her eyes grew larger and her breathing became faster. She shook her head in denial.

_Camille_

The first train that came along was southbound, and I got off at London Bridge. I started walking along the bridge but after a while I stopped and just leaned on the wall looking down at the water. If you'd seen me there you'd thinking that I was thinking, but I wasn't. The words in my head were incoherent and they were spinning around so fast that I couldn't make any sense of them.

So I watched the river for awhile blocking my mother's words and their implications. But that didn't work for very long. When she'd first given up on me I spent an entire month crying, this time I felt numb, and I couldn't decide which one was worst.

She didn't care; it didn't matter to her if I jumped off the bridge or not. I had no idea when or why I became a non-person to her. It hurt; it hurt that she could look at me so blankly while I talked about killing myself. It hurt so much, and I couldn't take it any longer.  
The ledge looked so inviting. I would say that it was calling my name but I don't want to sound stupid. I looked around at the cars that sped by, no one seemed to notice me. I took a deep cleansing breath and lifted my weight over the top. For a while I just sat there, somewhere between the solid road and the free space above Thames.

The last time I'd been at the bridge was the night I realised Steve had unofficially broken up with me. I had driven myself there in my Father's car with every purpose to jump off. But I couldn't do it; the river looked dark and uninviting and it creeped me out, I couldn't even make it on the pavement. I stayed there until dawn and then I went back home; my Dad hadn't even realise I was gone.

I wanted to cry; I thought it would alleviate the pain, but the tears wouldn't come. My eyes were dry and the wind that whipped at my face chilled me to the bone. It didn't matter though. Nothing mattered. I climbed on my feet and looked down; this time it wasn't scary. This time the black water looked like a velvety blanket ready to envelope me. Ready to take my pain away, my fears, my anxiety, everything. Ready to take me away.

And as I was getting ready to take the small step that would make everything better, Logan spoke up. And I jumped. I was so scared for a second that I was going to accidently slip; not because I was actually scared of dying, but because I didn't want him to have to witness it. Plus I knew Logan; I knew how guilty he'd feel if he thought that me falling was his fault. But I didn't slip and I heard him sighing gratefully as I turned to look at him.

It was ridiculous how a simple look in his face could tag at my heart strings. For a moment I completely forgot what I was doing up there. But the moment got over quickly.

"Why should I?" I asked without expecting for an answer.

Logan has the worst timing ever; he always decides to surprise me when I don't want to be surprised. But he doesn't care, he goes on and does it anyway. He started saying that I shouldn't jump, that he doesn't want me to jump, that he cares. And I just shook my head at him because I knew that for some reason he felt responsible for me and he'd feel responsible if I died right there in front of him. And so I told him that he didn't have to worry about me because I was a big girl.  
"No you don't understand; I don't want you to jump, because I don't want to lose you."

At first I wanted to roll my eyes at him because to me it was so obvious that he would say anything in order to get me down. But I didn't, I just waited for him to get all awkward and start eating his words. When after a couple of seconds he didn't, time stopped. Well of course not literally; I know that this cannot happen. But it felt like it to me. My eyes grew bigger and my hands started sweating as I looked at him. And my breathing became more erratic when he didn't tear his gaze away.

"You said that nothing changed," I said accusingly and his face fell a little but he didn't look away. He ran a hand through his hair.  
"I know, but I was wrong. It's actually the other way around," he said and I saw his cheeks getting pink.  
"What is that supposed to mean?"  
"Everything changed," he said his voice tentative "After Tenerife and even before that, ever after New Year's Eve everything changed. I met you, and Kendall, and Jo, and suddenly my problems weren't so important anymore." That wasn't the correct answer.  
"Ok...so everything changed for you. But nothing changed for me," I said with a shrug. The look in his eyes turned sad as his face paled once again.  
"But I thought..."  
"You are thinking too much Logan," I said. I was the first one to look away. I turned my attention back to the river.  
"So, it didn't mean anything to you, after all," Logan muttered to himself.  
"What didn't?" I asked curiously. Logan's eyes snapped on my face once again.

"Our talks, our friendship...our kiss."  
And it was around that point when I started believing him. Because he really looked sad thinking that our friendship meant nothing to me. That he meant nothing to me. And I wanted to slap him, kick him, make him hurt in any way I could, because he was stupid! Because he couldn't understand how much everything meant to me, because he didn't know how many sleepless night I'd had the last month thinking and rethinking every single one of our conversations, trying to read between the lines, looking for any sign that he felt something about me.

"You are stupid," I said and his eyebrows reached his hairline "You are so stupid Logan Mitchell and I'm pretty sure I hate you."  
"You sound a lot like Peggy right now," he muttered to himself. I shook my head at him "What did I say?" he asked confused.  
"It's not what you said! It's what you failed to see," I snapped at him. Logan blinked at me.  
"And what's that?" he asked.

I groaned and shut my eyes biting hard on my lower lip. Why couldn't he just let me kill myself? Why did he have to complicate everything? And why was he so stupid? I quickly got down and stood in front of him. I pushed him back hard as I could; Logan stumbled and nearly fell off.  
"What's that?" I demanded "How about me liking you, huh? How about me practically shouting it out loud ever since we came back from Tenerife, and how about you being completely oblivious about it?" I yelled at him.

He looked at me then, his eyes round and impossibly brown and sweet, his face flustered, his arms hanging limply by his sides. And the expression on his face the mixture of excitement and confusion, made me to want to smile. But I didn't because I was angry with him. I crossed my arms and impatiently waited for his response.  
Once again he went for the element of surprise. With two long strides he was next to me. His hand came close to my face and he grazed my cheek with his knuckles. I leaned in his touch, shivering. He slowly lowered his head, his eyes all the while pinning in mine. His lips brushed against mine and it was all it took for my knees to buckle. I stepped closer to him, hands fisting his shirt, and his arm wrapped around my waist, holding me up straight and flush against his body.  
When he pulled away I needed a minute to recall myself. It was the first time that Logan initiated a kiss and I was pleasantly surprised –although pleasantly is not the word I was thinking of at the moment but it's the one I'm going to use here. My hands unclenched and I smoothed the shirt with my fingers, my palm coming to a stop over his heart; it was beating ridiculously fast. I bit on my lip and smiled as I looked in his eyes. I think he was too nervous to actually smile back.

"So you won't jump?" he asked.  
"Not tonight, no."  
"Camille..."  
"Let's take it one step at a time, okay?" I cut him off "Isn't me not jumping tonight good enough for you?" I asked and he shook his head.  
"I need to know that you won't try to harm yourself."  
"I can't promise you that," I said. He didn't say anything for a second but then he nodded.  
"Okay then, you'll have to promise that if you start thinking about it you'll tell me."  
"For you to try and stop me?" I asked and he gave me a smile that made my stomach do a somersault.  
"For me to be there and successfully stop you," he said smugly. I chuckled and narrowed my eyes a little.  
"And how are you planning to do that?" I asked. Logan shrugged.  
"Oh, I'll find a way," he said confidently and leaned in for another kiss.

_Kendall_

We were all looking stupidly at Camille's parents waiting for them to say something, but they never did. Jo cleared her throat and went close to them and I got the perfect opportunity to turn to Lucy and interrogate her.  
"What did Jo tell you?" I asked. Lucy shrugged.  
"Nothing really," she muttered. I gritted my teeth.  
"You were talking for five minutes, how come she didn't say anything?" I demanded.  
"I didn't mean that she didn't say anything," Lucy said shaking her head. I shut my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.  
"Then what did you mean?"  
"I meant that she said nothing important," she explained.

"I don't care if it was important or not, I want to know what she said to you and what you said to her."  
"Why?"

I groaned and instantly Carlos was next to me, his arm around my shoulders.  
"Let's go grab a beer," he said dragging me towards the stairs.  
"But I don't..."  
"Sweet, you're game! Let's go!" Carlos exclaimed fastening his pace. As we walked by Jo I saw her looking at me questioningly.  
"I'll call," I said to her. Jo's eyes followed us and she gave me a small nod as Carlos yanked me up the stairs "Dude, you'll get my arm out," I said trying to free myself. Carlos didn't let go "Carlos, I'm not putting up a fight just please stop trying to tear off my fucking arm!" I yelled.  
We were in the middle of the street and several people turned to look at us. Carlos gave them an awkward smile as he dropped my arm. I heard Lucy scoffing and I turned around to glare at her.  
"Who invited you along?"  
"I thought you wanted to know what Jo and I talked about" she stated.

"C'mon man," Carlos said clapping me on the back.

We walked down the road and went to a pub, and Carlos bought me a Guinness, and we just sat there, with Lucy and Carlos looking at me as if they were waiting for me to catch my breath.

"Jo said that you hit your breaking point," Lucy muttered "I had no idea that you felt so bad."  
"Nothing clues you in like a suicide attempt, huh?" I said sarcastically.

"You should've told me something," Carlos said accusingly looking at me with his huge puppy dog eyes.  
"I didn't want to..."  
"If you say bother me, I will drag your scrawny ass out and kick you to the curb," he said darkly.  
Instead of answering, and causing myself more physical pain than I could bear, I took a long pull of my beer. And suddenly, just for a moment, I felt good. It helped that I really love cold Guinness; it helped that I really love Carlos, and that I used to love Lucy. And maybe for the first time in the last few months, I acknowledged something properly, something I knew had been hiding right down in my guts, or at the back of my head – somewhere I could ignore it anyway. And what I owned up to was this: I had wanted to kill myself not because I hated living, but because I loved it. And the truth of the matter is, I think that a lot of people who think about killing themselves feel the same way- I think that's how Jo, and Camille and Logan feel. They love life, but it's all fucked up for them, and that's why I met them, that's why we're all still around. We were up on the roof because we couldn't find a way back into life, and being shut out of it like that...It just fucking destroys you. So it's like an act of despair, not an act of nihilism. It's a mercy killing, not a murder. I don't know why it suddenly got to me. Maybe because I was in a pub with people that I loved, or used to love anyway, drinking Guinness, and I know that I said this before, but I fucking love Guinness. And I also realised that I didn't feel like I wanted to kill myself anymore.

It wasn't like I wanted to, you know, grab life in a passionate embrace and vow never to let it go until it let go of me. In a way, it makes things worse, not better. Once you stop pretending that everything's shitty and you can't wait to get out of it, which is the story I'd been telling myself for a while, then it gets more painful, not less. Telling yourself life is shit is like an anaesthetic, and when you stop taking the Advil, then you really can tell how much it hurts, and where, and it's not like that kind of pain does anyone a whole lot of good.

"Well it was a way of owning up to the mess I've made of my life," I said and they both frowned at me "Hey, you always said I was immature, that I took everything too lightly; it was the reason why you broke up with me," I said looking at Lucy.  
"That's not what I said," she said. I took a sip of my beer and pinned in her eyes.  
"So what did you say, then? Try again. And I'll listen real hard this time."

"It's not going to make any difference now, because we've all moved on, right?" she said.

And she was right. It would make no difference because I had moved on. I hadn't thought of Lucy or what we could've had in more than two months. I still loved her, I think I'll always love her she was a very important part of my life, but I wasn't in love with her anymore. I didn't care anymore to know why she broke up with me; knowing or not the fact that we were not together wouldn't change.

"Right," I said.  
"I got something for you," Carlos said and I looked at him questioningly. He reached inside his pocket and then he lowered something on the table sliding it to me. My eyes rounded,

"This is..."

"Keith Richards' guitar pick," Carlos finished for me "He handed it to me after their live show in New York when we went back stages."

"All you could do was stare at him and smile like an idiot," I said with a chuckle and Carlos nodded "You love that pick," I turned to Lucy "He slept with it for a month. And then it got tangled in his sheets and he thought he lost it and he called me crying. It was four o'clock in the freaking morning and I went over to his place and we tore his whole bedroom apart looking for it."Lucy chuckled.  
"How did you find it?"  
"Let's just say that it involved a lot of crying, and yelling...and quite surprisingly a pillow fight," I said tilting my head on the side and looking at Carlos who was chuckling. Lucy laughed loudly.  
"You guys are impossible," she said.  
"Only a little unlikely I'd say," Carlos said. His eyes found mine and he locked our gazes "I want you to keep it."  
"I can't do that Carlitos, I know how much this pick means to you."  
"But you mean more," he shrugged.  
"Carlos..."  
"Kendall, it's only a guitar pick," Carlos said.

But it wasn't. And I knew it, and he knew and we both looked at each other until Lucy groaned and rolled her eyes.  
"Will you kiss already?"  
"What?" Carlos demanded jumping in his seat.

"C'mon it's so obvious you got the hots for each other," Lucy said tauntingly.  
"No we don't!" Carlos immediately screeched "Plus Kendall is in love with Jo..."  
"Carlos!" I snapped and slapped him upside his head. Carlos turned to me scrunching his face.

"I said that out loud, didn't I?" he said and I nodded at him "Sorry."  
"Jo, Kendall?" Lucy asked intrigued. I groaned and glared at Carlos who cowered in his seat "She's so not your type."  
"Oh, I have a type?" I asked.

"You do; usually girls out of your league, like me," she said batting her lashes and I scoffed.

"That was meant to be a joke, right?" I asked.  
Apparently it wasn't meant to be one. Lucy went all mental on my ass and as a result we got kicked out of the pub; that didn't stop her from chasing me down the road while Carlos tried to stop her saying over and over again,

"Let's calm down and think happy thoughts of kittens!"

_Jo_

I was left alone with Camille's parents, Logan's ex-wife and best friend, and Mercedes. I had no idea what to do or say. I looked around the room at all those unfamiliar faces that were staring expectantly back at me and I felt my self-esteem flying out of the window.  
I decided that I'd have to deal with Camille's parents first. I took a deep breath, and walked towards the couple that was having a silent argument. I cleared my throat and they stopped turning their attention to me.  
"I'm sorry that we ruined your intervention Miss Taylor," Camille's dad said.  
"Thank you, I tried really hard to make this happen, and I don't like the way it evolved..."  
"You have to excuse my daughter," Camille's mom cut in "She's just overly dramatic at times..."  
"Actually," I stopped her "I don't think that it was Camille's fault," I said. Her expression turned confused.  
"Excuse me?"  
"I think that Camille had every right to storm out the way she did," I said and her expression slowly turned affronted "I heard the part where you accused her of stealing Aria's earrings and I heard you saying that you won't help her with her issues, so I can't blame her."  
"I didn't say I won't help her."  
"She was asking for help and all you said was that she is not a child anymore. Do you realise how that sounds?" I asked being as polite as I could. Mrs Roberts frowned as she pondered on my words.  
"But I didn't mean that I won't help her. She must surely know that."  
"How is she supposed to know when all you do is belittling her?" Mr Roberts asked a little angrily.  
"I don't..."  
"Yes, yes you do. Don't deny it. I know that losing Aria is hard for you, as it is for me, but what about Camille? She lost her sister, and a little while later you started pushing her away with your words and you actions. How do you think that made her feel?" Mr Roberts asked. Camille's mom turned pale as she looked between me and her husband.  
"I didn't know..."  
"You should stop comparing your daughters Mrs Roberts," I said with a gentle tone "And I'm pretty sure that Camille had nothing to do with the missing earrings."  
"You can't know that."  
"No I can't. But think about it; if they were Aria's favourite earrings would she leave without them? And if she did, wouldn't she come back to get them? They never found a body, so Aria is probably still alive. Why is it so easy to believe that Camille stole her sister's earrings, but it's impossible for Aria to have come back to the house to pick them up?"  
I looked at her as my words started dawning in her. In all honesty I don't know whether I was right or wrong. But to me it made sense and I thought she should at least consider this option; maybe that way her relationship with Camille would improve somewhat.  
"I want to go home," Mrs Roberts blurted looking at her ex-husband.  
"That's not a good idea; Camille won't be very pleased to see you."  
"I don't care, I need to apologise to her," Mrs Roberts said her tone frantic "I can't have her thinking that I don't care about her. Please Richard," she pleaded with Mr Roberts. He sighed.  
"Okay, but if she doesn't want to hear you, you'll leave on your own, okay?" he asked.  
"Yes, I will," she agreed with a nod "Can we just go?" she asked.  
"Sure," he told her and she started towards the stairs. Mr Roberts looked at me and gave me a thankful smile.  
"I'll owe you for this Miss Taylor."  
"Just make sure that Camille knows that you love her," I said.

"I will," he reassured me and extended his hand towards me. I shook it and with one last look at me he went after his ex-wife.  
"You did good," Mercedes whispered in my ear making me jump. She giggled and I punched her shoulder playfully "Now what about them?"  
"I think they'll be easier," I said hoping I was right.  
James smiled when he saw me nearing their table. I smiled back and took the seat next to him looking at Peggy.  
"Ugh, sorry," I said at the blonde but she didn't even look at me. I frowned.  
"She can't hear you," James said smirking.  
"Why not?"  
"She's listening to music," he said laconically and I frowned "Long story," he said. He stood up and walked around the table stopping near Peggy; the woman had her head lowered peering down at her lap. James sniggered to himself as he took a hold of her shoulders and shook her. Peggy yelped jumping up and I had to bite on my lip to keep myself from laughing.  
"You prick!" she snapped at him taking the headphones off "Why did you do that?"  
"Did I scare you?" James asked with an innocent look "I'm sorry I didn't mean to do that."  
"You're a fucking bastard Diamond James and I..."  
"Yeah, yeah, hate you, blah, blah, go to hell, blah," James said and faked a yawn. Peggy huffed glaring at him. "Someone wanted to talk to you," James said pointing at me. Peggy whirled around and I swallowed.  
"Oh, if it isn't miss goody-two-shoes with the need to fix everything," Peggy said bitterly.  
"Don't worry Jo, she's a bitch to everyone, it's not something personal." James said. Peggy punched his shoulder hard as she could but I don't think it hurt him, he didn't even flinch.  
"Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry that I dragged you over here. The intervention was a bust."

"I think it was successful," James said with a secretive smile "Of course I won't know until I get back home, but I have the impression I'm right; call it a gut feeling."  
"Oookay," I said "Anyway, you can both leave, we're done here," I said clapping my hands.  
"Thank god," Peggy muttered to herself and rushed away. I looked after her and then turned to James.  
"How did she ever ended up marrying Logan?"  
"That's a question that I still haven't found the answer to," he said with a serious expression. Mercedes cleared her throat behind me.  
"Oh, James, this is my friend, Mercedes; Mercedes this is James," I said thinking that I should probably introduce them. James offered her a charming smile.  
"Pleased to meet you," he said and Mercedes smiled back.  
"Likewise."  
"You'll sleep over to my place tonight right?" I asked and she nodded "And we'll get a cab to Heathrow together tomorrow."

"Is there any chance of you following me back home?" she asked but I shook my head no.  
"Sorry, I can't leave Alex," Mercedes sighed

"I knew you'd say that. But you won't get MIA again, ok?"  
"I'll call once a week, cross my heart," I said and she giggled.

"You're so stupid Jo Taylor," she said pushing me away.  
"Oh I'm the stupid one? You were the one person I know that failed her theatrical exam in high school!" I exclaimed.  
"Hmm, well we can't all be huge Hollywood stars like you," Mercedes said rolling her eyes.  
"Yeah right, what with all my blockbusters, and my own million Oscar awards, you can't compare to me," I said cheekily.  
"Wait, are you an actress?" I heard James voice and I remembered that he was still there.  
"Not really..."  
"Don't listen to her. She's great."  
"I'm okay, not great," I said.  
"So you are an actress," James said and I nodded "Do you happen to look for a job?"

"I already have a job," I said and James raised an eyebrow "I'm a waitress..."  
"Ok, ok, stop right there. I'm offering you a job, a real acting job and you will pass it because you prefer waiting tables?" he asked confused.  
"James I don't know..."  
"Look, here's my number," he said grabbing a card from his pocket and handing it to me "Tomorrow over at the station they have an audition about second lead role in a new soap opera, I think you should give it a try. Call me to let me know, I can bring you the script and put in a good word for you," James said and I found myself nodding. He politely bid us goodbye and then Mercedes started squealing, and blubbering about how things already started looking up. All I could do was stare at the card thinking that my life was about to take a serious turn, for better or worst; I still didn't know.

**A/N: Did you guys like it? This is the pre-last chapter. The story will wrap up possibly in the weekend. Thanks for reading! **


	14. The End

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the series, not the group, and definitely not Nick Hornby's book; I just based the story on it. **

**A/N: This was supposed to be up yesterday but I'm such a genius that I managed to delete it, and then I had to write it again my scratch. It is the last chapter as the ingenious title states...I hope you'll like it! **

Chapter 14

The End

_Logan_

You know how sometimes friends do things in order to help us but in reality they just make our lives worst? Yeah James did that, a lot. And no matter how many times I snapped at him and threatened to kill him it did not faze him; he insisted on helping me out.

"I'm bored," Harry groaned his head rolling back.  
"Well what do you want to do?"  
"I don't know."  
"Would you...like to watch some TV?"  
"My mom says TV makes you stupid."  
"I agree with your mom," I said and Harry narrowed his eyes at me.  
"So you want to make me stupider?"  
"What? No, You wanna read a book?"  
"Book? I'm eight, what do you think?" he asked raising an eyebrow.  
"I liked reading books in your age," I said with a small shrug. The kid looked at me like I had grown a second head.  
So you must be wondering who Harry is. Harry is a third grade student at a comprehensive school in my neighbourhood, and I was supposed to be helping him with his reading. James had volunteered me for the job believing that helping others would somehow repair my self-respect. I didn't really have a problem with it; I loved kids and I liked tutoring, but Harry was a special case, because Harry got bored really easy. We were reading this book for like five minutes and then he started shooting questions left and right none of which was related to the book.

"Why don't you tell me a story?" he asked crossing his arms.  
"Because I'm supposed to help you, not entertain you."  
"You just asked me if I wanted to watch TV," he countered.  
"Yes and that was wrong. We should be reading," I said taking a book from the stack that was resting on top of the table next to me. When Harry saw how thick the book was he swallowed.  
"Should we really? Because I'm just fine sitting here," he said and I wanted to chuckle but I knew I shouldn't.  
"C'mon, you'll like it."  
He didn't like it. In his defence the book was not easy to comprehend, it had large words and long periods, and it was difficult even for me to keep track of what was going on. But the books we were supposed to go through were picked out by his teacher, I couldn't change his syllabus. Fifteen minutes in the story and Harry started humming a song under his breath. I sighed, closed the book, and sat back on my chair.

"We have forty-five minutes left," I said and he looked at me. He gave me a nod but didn't say anything "If you don't want to study we could just...talk," I said.  
"And say what?" Harry asked playing with his fingers.  
"I don't know, whatever...You can start," I offered. Harry scrutinized me for a second.  
"I don't wanna talk with you," he said.  
"Why not?" I asked kinda offended.  
"Because you're old..."  
"I'm not that old!" Harry fixed me with his eyes.

"How old are you?" he asked me and I tried not to but ended up squirming in my seat anyway.

"Twenty five," I said.  
"You're old," Harry said with conviction. I rolled my eyes. I was about to answer to him when my mobile chimed; a text from Camille, reminding me I should pick her up in an hour "Why are you smiling?" Harry questioned and I looked up from the phone and down at the eight year old.

"A friend sent me a text," I told him. Harry wasn't satisfied with my answer.  
"A friend? What kind of a friend?"  
"Are there many kinds?"  
"Yeah," he said nodding. I put the mobile back in my pocket and looked at him.  
"Ugh, I didn't know there were several kinds of friendship," I said and the kid rolled his eyes.  
"Are you always smiling like that when your friends text?"  
"Smile like what?"  
"Like you got an early Christmas' present," Harry said. I was not going to let a third grader make me blush.

"She's just a really good friend..."  
"She?" Harry asked giving me a sly smile "So it was a girl that texted you?"

"Yeah," I said a bit apprehensively.  
"Was it your girlfriend?" he asked. I pulled at my shirt and took a minute before answering his question.  
"Yeah, you could say that," I mumbled.  
"Do you like her? Is she pretty? What's her name?" Harry asked in one breath.

I don't know what I expected when James told me what he'd done but it certainly wasn't a conversation about Camille with an eight year old child. But Harry seemed very interested in every little detail of my relationship and he wouldn't stop asking questions.

"What's her favourite colour?"  
"Red...? I don't know," I said hiding my face in my hands. Twelve more minutes. Harry scoffed.  
"How can you not know?"  
"I just don't."  
"You don't sound like a very good boyfriend to me," he said sceptically.  
"Hey! I'm not gonna take criticism from you."

"Why not?"  
"Because you're still a kid!" I pointed out. Harry didn't like that. He crossed his arms and glared at me "You still believe girls have cooties..."  
"I'm eight, not six. Girls don't have cooties," Harry cut me off.

"You're still a kid!"  
"And you're still not a good boyfriend," Harry deadpanned.

When our twelve minutes were up and his mom came to pick him up I think it was the best moment in my day. Harry was an annoying little bugger who managed to get under my skin. By the end of our session he had managed successfully to make me doubt whether or not I was a good boyfriend. Camille was on to me the moment she opened the door.  
"What's wrong with you?" she asked tilting her head on the side. My mouth snapped a couple of times but no words came out. Camille frowned.  
"I-I'm fine," I lied my hand coming to rub the back of my neck.  
"Are you sure about that?" she insisted. I smiled at her and nodded.  
"Yeah, I wasn't feeling so hot before, I'm better now," I said honestly and Camille's face broke into a huge smile. Without closing the door she reached over, took a hold of my tie, and pulled me towards her.  
Camille wrapped her arms around my neck and smiled before leaning forward. When her lips brushed against mine I heard a fainted scream and Camille grinned. Once she pulled away I looked at her confused. She gave me a wink, turned over her shoulder and yelled,  
"Bye mom! Don't wait up!" and then she banged the door close. She entwined our fingers and started for the car but I wasn't walking so she had to stop.  
"Do I need to know something?" I asked. She twirled around and gave me a shake of her head.  
"Nope, nothing."  
"Are you sure?"

"Just a small argument with my mom."  
"What about?"  
"It's nothing Logan," she said, I just looked at her "Trust me, please, it's nothing," she repeated.

Camille lowered her head peering at her shoes. And then I knew that Harry was right; I was a terrible boyfriend. I tagged at her hand pulling her closer and Camille looked up at me biting her lip.  
"Okay," I said and placed my arms around her waist.  
"Okay?"  
"I trust you," I said and her eyes widened a fraction. She rested her head against my chest and I let a breath I didn't know I was holding.  
"Thank you," she muttered. I nodded even though she couldn't see me and then dropped a kiss on top of her head. We stayed like that for a while, and then Camille slightly pulled away "So, where are you taking me?" she asked with an excited smirk.  
"It's a surprise."

_Camille_

It took us some time to get off that bridge that night. Logan ended up literally sweeping me off my freaking feet because I refused leaving before the sunrise, not that I'm complaining. He drove me to my house in his rental Peugeot, and he kissed my knuckles as a good night kiss saying that if my parents were home they could very well see us kissing from the window. Of course that wasn't a good enough excuse for me so I grabbed the lapels of his coat and crashed my lips on his.

"Good night," I said brightly with a cheeky grin as Logan stood there trying to gather his bearings. He made an inaudible sound and waved his hand. I chuckled as I walked towards the front door.

"What was that?" my Mom was waiting for me just behind the door. I jumped at the sound of her voice and glared at her. My Dad appeared at the far end of the hallway.

"What is she doing here?" I demanded.  
"She wanted to talk to you," my Dad said and I scoffed.  
"And why would I want to talk to her?"  
"Because I'm your mother..."  
"You remembered that a little late," I said bitterly. My Dad sighed. He rubbed his hand over his eyes and walked towards me. I was always my Father's daughter, even if I couldn't stand him, my Dad always understood me. He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to him.  
"If you don't want to listen to her, she'll leave," he said in my ear. He pressed his lips on my forehead.  
"First we're gonna talk about where you were, and what you were doing with that man, and then..."  
"You first fuck up and then you want me to play by your rules?"

"Watch your tongue young lady!"  
"Why? I'm not a kid anymore, am I, _Mom_?"

"Camille this man went to prison..."  
"Don't you pick a fight with me over Logan, just don't," I said warningly. My Father's arm around me was the only thing stopping me from storming off.

"He's not good for you Camille."  
"Not good?" I asked and then I started laughing "Not good?" I repeated.  
"He's not only divorced, but he's been to prison. He lost his medical license and he lives off of his friend's money!" my Mother yelled.

"Easy," my Dad whispered in my ear when he felt me shaking under his arm. I took a deep breath.  
"Well, that man, who you think so low off, just saved your daughter's life, so I think you owe him," I said coolly. My Dad tensed behind me and my Mom's eyes got wide open.  
"You were...you tried..."

"You can say it, _Mom_, I," I started slowly "Tried...To...Kill...Myself," I said and I saw her swallowing "Again. And this time, it was because of you."  
I shouldn't have said that. I wasn't being completely honest and I knew how much it would hurt her, but it was precisely the reason why I said it; I wanted to hurt her, like she'd hurt me. Although at the time I didn't believe she'd ever be able to feel such pain, still I wanted to try. Her hand came to her chest and I could see tears in her eyes. I couldn't control the satisfaction that filled me from head to toes.

"Let's make some tea," Dad whispered in my ear. Ah, tea; my Father's solution to everything.  
We went to the kitchen and my Dad sat me down and then went to the kettle and started making some tea. Mom stood by the frame of the door watching me, making me feel uncomfortable. But I wasn't going to start squirming under her gaze. I bit on my lip and closed my eyes remembering how it felt when Logan kissed me. Of course that didn't help very much because then suddenly the room became too hot and my palms started sweating.  
"Are you okay sweetheart?" my Dad asked noticing my flushed cheeks. My eyes snapped open and I found him sitting next to me. There was a cup of steaming tea in front of me. I nodded "So, Logan stopped you from killing yourself again?" Dad asked with a smirk. I brought the mug to my lips and took a swig and then nodded "I owe that boy too much already," he said and I felt the corners of my lips twitching upwards. My Mom had to ruin the moment by scoffing "Cynthia if you have something to say then say it," my Dad said irritated. I think Mom expected him to take her side because she looked really surprised but she didn't say anything "Are you okay now?" my Dad asked pinning in my eyes.  
"I'm a lot better," I said sincerely. He studied my face and then he gave me a smile.  
"I take it you and Logan started dating?" he asked. I hesitated for a second worrying my lip and then I mumbled a yes. Mom gasped.  
"Richard, you are going to allow that?"

"She's twenty three Cynthia, what do you want me to do? Lock her in the basement until she forgets about him?"  
"If needed yes!"  
"Cynthia!" my Father sounded appalled.

"You are her father, you need to protect her from making the wrong choices."  
"No, I need to trust her to make the right ones and be there when, if she needs me."  
"You will never change Richard, that's why Aria..."  
"Enough!" I yelled at the both of them, grabbing my mug so tighty between my hands that I was afraid it was going to break "I've had enough of you two fighting to last me a whole life time," I snapped "Will you just tell me why you are here?" I asked looking at my mom.

"I'm sorry Camille," she said coming closer to the table and taking a seat opposite me "I'm sorry for the way I reacted, and I'm sorry that I accused you of taking those earrings...I know that it wasn't you."

And then mom started telling me about Jo's idea and how Aria came back for the earrings because they meant so much to her. And at first I couldn't see what difference that made, because Aria still wasn't around. But I saw the difference it made to her, how much calmer she looked when she talked about Aria. And it didn't matter if the story about my sister coming back for them was real; I blindly decided to believe it. I went to bed that night thinking that things were about to start looking up for me and my mom; I was wrong.  
For the next two weeks she visited every day, she didn't stay with us she had her own suit room in a very nice hotel that my Dad was paying for, and she had one goal; to successfully talk me out of dating Logan. It didn't matter to her that if it wasn't for Logan I would be dead, it didn't matter that he made me feel good about myself, that he made me feel happy. I hadn't felt happy since Aria 'died', and it was a feeling that I'd missed terribly, but to her all that was irrelevant.

"Mom, for the last time, I don't care if you like it or not, I'm going out with him, just deal with it," I said exasperated.  
"But Camille, you can't sacrifice your life..."  
"Oh my God, enough! I'm not sacrificing anything!"  
"Yes you are, and the worst thing is that you don't realise it."  
"Look Mom, I get it; you don't like Logan. You think he's a bad influence, I happen to think the exact opposite; I'm a bad influence for him. If you just get to know him..."  
"I don't want to get to know him Camille. And I don't want you to either."  
"Too bad, and too late," I said with a small shrug.  
I was saved by the bell; once again Logan was my knight in shining armour. I walked out of the kitchen as my Dad walked in and started talking to my Mom. I opened the door and I could tell that he wasn't okay, so I asked him but he didn't want to tell me, He just stood there all awkward and sweet and I couldn't stop myself from kissing him. It was an added bonus that the door wasn't entirely shut and my Mother saw us. I couldn't keep myself from grinning when I heard her yelping. When I pulled away I winked at his confused look and yelled.

"Bye mom! Don't wait up!"

And just because Logan is Logan and he loves surprising me he let it go rather easily; I expected him to plaster me with questions about my fight with my Mom but he just said that he trusted me, making me fall for him a little bit more.  
"So, where are you taking me?"  
"It's a surprise," he said with a secretive smile.  
When he said surprise a trip to the cemetery was the last thing that I had in mind. Logan parked the car but made no move to get out. I looked at him expectantly waiting for him to find the right words.  
"Ok this is...this might be kind of weird," he said looking at me sideways. I offered him a smile.  
"I like weird," I said offhandedly.

"It might be too weird, even for you," he said and I just nodded "But I thought that...I-I don't really know what I thought, maybe we should just go for lunch..."  
"Logan," I said when he was about to turn the engine on again "I'm sure that whatever you have in mind, I can handle it. Just give me a chance," he pinned in my eyes for a long second.

"Ok," he gave in eventually.

He held my hand as we walked through the graves but didn't say anything. I couldn't think of a reason why we were there and I was dying to ask him but I held my tongue and waited for him; I knew he was going to explain himself when he was ready. And then he halted and I nearly crashed on him. I took a step back and looked at him puzzled.

"Camille, I want you to meet, Liam," he said pointing down at a tombstone and I felt my breath hitching in my throat "Kid, this is Camille," Logan said with a crooked smile "I told you I'd bring her over."  
He'd taken me to the cemetery to 'introduce' me to his son. I don't know what the appropriate reaction to this kind of thing is but I was incredibly touched. It clearly was very important to him and it made it so much more important to me. I felt the tears in my eyes, and the tightness in my chest as Logan talked to the tomb; until then I hadn't realised how much the baby's death had affected him, how much it still hurt him. But it was all there; in the sound of his voice, in the look in his eyes, in the way he said 'kid' over and over again, raw pain that nothing could take it away.  
"Hey, it's okay," Logan whispered making me shiver. He put his arm around my waist "We can go if you want..."  
"No," I said quickly "No I want to stay."  
"Are you sure?"  
"I am," I said through my tears. Logan kissed my crown and I leaned into him.  
"What do you think Liam?" he asked "Do you like Cam?" he continued and I chuckled a little "Mm, yeah, I agree."  
"What did he say?" I asked looking in his eyes. The intensity of his gaze made my knees weak.  
"He thinks that you are unique. He thinks that you are special because other from James and me and his mom you're the first person to visit his grave...Oh and he thinks you are pretty."  
"He does?" I asked feeling my stomach twisting. Logan nodded.  
"Yup."  
"Hey," Logan said after a while when we were both seated on the grass "What's your favourite colour?"  
"Ugh, red," I said and he fist bumped the air "Why?"  
"Oh...erh, nothing," he said with a wave of his hand.

"Okay..." I trailed off.

We spent an hour and a half there, just talking. Logan asked me about my favourite food and my favourite season and I asked him if he ever missed home. We talked about staff that we never broached before like his parents and my relationship with Steve. It was so easy to talk to him, it felt like I knew him my whole life.  
"James is really excited about this, about us," Logan said.

"Why is that?"  
"Because he thought it was about time for me to start moving on," Logan said "Oh and he thinks that he helped us getting here, which is kinda true."  
"Is it now?" I asked interested.  
"Yup, he made me realise that even if I was scared I had to make a move because if I didn't I would never have a chance to be with you and that would be something that I'd end up regretting."  
"Then I must thank James," I said and Logan smiled. He kissed me and nodded.  
"You must, but I should warn you; James wants people to express their gratitude through...grand gestures."  
"Grand gestures?"  
"Ugh...he lately started talking about how he needs a Porsche," Logan said and I think my eyebrows reached my hairline.  
"Oh my...Are you kidding?" I asked. Logan just kept at staring at me seriously, but five seconds later he started laughing.  
"Yeah, I am," he admitted and I shoved him away from me "You should've seen the look on your face," he said while chuckling.  
"That wasn't funny," I said crossing my arms. Logan was now lying on his back.  
"From my point of view it definitely was," he said looking up at me. I narrowed my eyes at him. Logan took a hold of one of my hands and dragged me on top of him, my head resting against his chest. He draped his arm over my waist and I entwined our fingers; I could definitely get used to that.

_Kendall_

Carlos decided to stay a couple of days to make sure that I wasn't going to do anything crazy like throw myself off of a multi store building. He'd called his father and Mr Garcia told him to take us much time as he needed, which gave me the impression that the force didn't really miss him.

"Will you just call her?" Carlos said looking at me as I walked up and down my living room, my mobile in hand. He was lying on the couch, and my guitar was nestled on his abdomen as he dragged his fingers through the chords.  
"And tell her what?"  
"That you want to talk?" Carlos asked raising his eyebrows. I shook my head.  
"She's made it perfectly clear that she doesn't want to talk about what happened..."  
"Then change the topic of discussion," he said simply. I frowned at him. Carlos sighed and rolled his eyes "Don't talk about what happened, talk about what you want to happen. You know in the future," he explained.  
"Oh...that could work," I muttered to myself.  
"There you go," Carlos said with a self-pleased smile.  
"When did you become the clever one out of the two of us?"  
"Oh my little Ken-doll, I always were the clever one, you just started realising it," he said.  
"Haha, very funny," I said and kicked his feet that were half on my coffee table half on the couch. They fell off and Carlos let a small yelp as he tried not to tumble over "Not."

"Uncool," Carlos said glaring at me. I smirked, but it quickly fell away as I looked at the mobile again. Carlos groaned "It's like we're back in tenth grade all over again."

"Huh?"  
"Tenth grade, Annie, the principal's daughter?" Carlos said.  
"Oh..."  
"Yeah, Annie," Carlos said again "Do you remember how long it took you to ask her out? Let's not wait six months this time, hah? Just call her up, tell her you want to talk to her and see where it will get you."

It was easy for him to say and hard for me to do. My fingers wouldn't cooperate with the demands coming from my brain; all I could do was stare at the small device. Carlos sat up, took my mobile and through my contacts found Jo, he called the number and pressed the cell on my ear.  
"Now you talk," he said like he was talking to a five year old "But first you need to breathe Kendall," he added with an amused look.  
"Oh is this funny for you? Do you enjoy yourself?" I asked bitterly. Carlos grinned.  
"Immensely," he said and I pushed him away from me. Jo's phone was ringing. My heartbeats slowly started picking up "Oh! Tell her to meet some place out."  
"What? Why?"

"Because I don't feel like going out," he said with a small shrug.  
"Carlos I swear to..."  
"Kendall?" Jo's voice came from the other line and my eyes grew huge. Carlos gave me a double thumbs up.

"Ugh, yeah that's me, I told you I'd call."  
"That was like three days ago," Jo pointed out. Carlos looked at me confused when I winced.  
"Yeah, sorry...It's just with Carlos here I kind of lost track of time," I said and she chuckled,  
"I get it don't worry. Did you want something?"  
"I was wondering if..." I trailed off. Carlos made a motion with his hand urging me to continue but the words died before they reached my mouth.  
"If?" Jo inquired. I shut my eyes and drew a deep breath.  
"If you want to go for a coffee with me," I said getting ready for her to shoot me down.  
"Coffee? Just the two of us?" my lack of responding was a good enough answer for her "Sure."  
"No listen Jo, c'mon we are friends, it's just a coffee I wouldn't..."  
"Kendall," Jo's voice broke through my mumbling.  
"Yeah?"  
"I agreed with you."  
"You did?"  
"Yup," she said and I could almost see her smiling. I pulled the phone away from my ear, covered the speaker with my hand and did a small victory dance. Carlos started laughing and clapping.  
"Great! What time does your shift end?"  
"Oh...I don't work at the cafe anymore."  
"You don't?"  
"No, it's a long story, I'll tell you when I see you."  
"Ok, how does 7.30 sound to you?"  
"Perfect."

I don't know how I kept myself from beating up Carlos, I think it has to do with the knowledge that if I started a fight with him I'd get my ass handed to me. He was being really irritating throughout the day finding my nervousness hilarious. Half an hour before the date I was sitting in front of the door, just staring at it. Carlos came next to me and tilted his head following my gaze.  
"Anything interesting going on with the door?" he asked and I ignored him "Kendall?" again I didn't respond "Kendall? Kendall. Kendall. Kendall..."  
"Stop it!" I snapped at him. Carlos jumped a little.  
"Are you getting into shock mode? This is just a date Ken," Carlos said and he sounded worried.  
"It's not just a date. It's my first date after a six year old relationship..."  
"Didn't you already sleep with Jo?" Carlos asked frowning.  
"That's not the point!"  
"Oh sorry...What's the point?" he asked and I smacked my palm on my forehead.

"I haven't been on a date in a long, long time."  
"Ugh, don't get angry but, the night you slept with Jo, wasn't that your first date? Didn't you guys go to that salsa place?"  
"Well...I don't know if it counts as a date..."  
"It ended with you two sleeping together!" Carlos pointed out a bit exasperated. It was my turn to jump a little.

"Okay, maybe you're right."  
"Look," Carlos said patting my arm "You don't need to be so wound up alright? If you like her so much, just be yourself...not too much though," he added with a smirk and I rolled my eyes at him.  
"Thanks," I muttered through my teeth.

It wasn't as awkward as I thought it would be. Jo was calm and she talked with me and she laughed when I tried to be funny and not once did she look towards the door. I'd taken her to this small cafe around the corner of my house; it was a cosy little place that made great coffee. She really seemed to like it.  
"What happened with your job?" I asked and she smiled hugely.  
"I quit, I've got a new one now."  
And for the next thirty minutes Jo narrated me the tail of how she ended up with a second lead role in a soap opera thanks to James. When she talked about the show it was clear that she wasn't enamoured with the idea of staring in a soap but she clearly loved being in front of the camera. If the night of New Year's Eve someone told me that the shy and silent Jo Taylor would be so exited and loud about being on TV I would peg them crazy. And if they told me that my smile would get brighter just because she was in the same room I would throw them off Topper's House myself. But things change, people change.  
"...I mean yeah the time schedule is a little crazy, and I don't get to see Alex as much as I want too but I think it's about time to start thinking about me...You don't think that I'm selfish, do you?"  
"You? Selfish? You're one of the most selfless people I know," I said and Jo smiled. I took a deep breath and pinned in her eyes "Listen Jo, I...I like you."

"And I like you," she said back.  
"No you don't understand, I _like you, _like you."  
"No Kendall, you don't understand. I like you the way you like me," Jo said and I swear my heart skipped a beat.

"You mean that?"

"You know I hate lies, I never say things I don't mean," she said with a small shrug.

"Okay...so what does that mean?" I asked feeling stupidly giddy. My knee had started bumping up and down on its own accord.

"I don't know...Let's, let's take it slowly, see where it goes," Jo suggested. I nodded a bit too enthusiastically and she chuckled.  
"Can I just do something?" I asked and she hesitated for a second.  
"Sure," she said and I jumped up from my seat startling her.

I walked around the table and got close to her. Jo frowned at me as I extended my hand towards her. I just raised my eyebrows. She contemplated it for a second and then she took my hand in hers. I dragged her on her feet and cupped her face in my hands before planting a kiss on her lips.  
"God, I waited so long to do that," I said when we pulled away. Jo laughed and rolled her eyes at me.  
"You're such a dork," she said and I jutted my bottom lip out. Jo shook her head "An adorable dork," she added.  
"And don't you forget how much you like it," I said and kissed her again.

"Don't worry, I don't think I can."

_Jo_

We met in a pub opposite Topper's House for our Ninetieth Day party. The idea was to have a couple of drinks, go up on the roof, have a little think about everything and then go off for a curry in the Indian Ocean on Holloway Road. Logan was sitting on the booth next to Camille who was leaning on to him, and Kendall was next to me his arm draped on the back of my chair, his fingers running up and down my arm. It was weird to think back to the firs night I met those people; it was hard to believe how much we'd all changed, and painful to remember how lonely I felt back then. It was also kind of scary to think that I wouldn't be there if it wasn't for them.  
"I'm not sure I want to go up on the roof," I said and Camille frowned at me.  
"Why not?"  
"Because people kill themselves up there," I said and Camille blinked at me.  
"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Oh, so you enjoyed it on Valentine's Day?" I asked and she shifted in her seat.  
"I didn't say that..."  
"I just don't see why we have to go," I said. Camille looked at me under her lashes.  
"Because we could stop someone..."  
"People who want to kill themselves won't just get off the ledge because we'll tell them to do so Cam," I cut her off "I think we established that back in February."  
"So you're saying we should just let them get on with it?"

"I don't see how we can help so yeah."  
"Do you agree?" Camille asked her eyes shifting to Kendall.

"I agree that we can't help," Kendall said and Camille was ready to say something but he stopped her "Though I don't see who it would hurt to try."  
"Logan," I said and the brunette looked at them "Please tell them that this is stupid. Committing suicide is something very private as we all know and we are not exactly experts on why someone shouldn't do it."

Logan's eyes flickered from me, to Kendall and then to Camille just to return back to me. He ran a hand through his hair.

"You are right, we are not experts and if someone wants to kill himself then he will with or without us there," Logan started "But I can't help to think that if you hadn't asked for the stepladder that night I would be dead now. Some people might be up there for the same reasons we were up there; because they need someone to talk to and they have no one, because they think that no one understands. But we do. We understood each other, and we helped each other to see past our problems. Don't you think that it would be nice to do that for someone else?"

"Damn you and your logical thinking Mitchell," I said grumpily and Logan gave me a smug grin "How can you stand him?" I asked my eyes trailing over to Camille.  
"Logical thinking comes handy in...many cases," Camille said giggling. I saw Logan's face flushing and I decided that I didn't want to know.  
"So, shall we look for someone?" Kendall asked and I looked at him sideways.  
"How do you look for someone?"  
"There's probably someone in here, for a start."  
We looked around the pub. It was just after seven, and there weren't many people in yet. In the corner by the gents', there were a couple of guys in suits looking at a cell phone laughing. At the table nearest the bar, there were three teenage girls, looking at photographs and laughing. At the table next to us there was a young couple laughing about nothing, and sitting at the bar there was a middle-aged guy reading a newspaper.  
"Too much laughing," Camille said.  
"Well, anyone who thinks text messages are funny isn't going to kill himself," Kendall pointed out "There isn't enough going on internally."  
"I've seen some funny text messages," Camille said. Logan looked down at her.  
"That doesn't really disprove Kendall's point."  
"Shut up," Camille said punching his shoulder. Logan narrowed his eyes and started tickling her.

"They look cute," I said to Kendall who moved closer and kissed my cheek.  
"Yup, but we look cuter," he said with a wink.  
We had two drinks each. Logan had whisky with water, Kendall drank two pints of Guinness, Camille had two vodkas with lemon and I drank white wine. I'd probably have been dizzy three months ago, but I seem to drink a lot now, so when we got up to walk across the road, I just felt warn and friendly. Kendall had his arm around my shoulders and Camille was walking hand in hand with Logan. The clocks had gone forward on the previous Sunday, and even though it seemed dark when we were down on the street, up on the roof it felt as though there was some light left somewhere in the city. We leaned on the wall, right next to the place where Logan had cut through the wire and looked south towards the river.  
"Anyone up for going over?" Camille said suggestively. Kendall looked at the ledge but shook his head.  
"Nah, Carlos said that if I died he'd dig me out and kill me with his bare hands."  
"How will that work?" Logan asked scoffing.  
"I have no idea," Kendall admitted and we all laughed.

"It's gotta be a good thing, right? That we're still around," Logan said.  
"Well duh," Camille said bumping her shoulder against his.  
"No, it wasn't a rhetorical question...It's more like..I don't know."  
"Better that we're here than that we're not?" I asked.  
"Yeah, that I guess."

"Well it's better for me so you keep it that way or I won't be happy," Camille said warningly. Logan chuckled "I mean it," she added narrowing her eyes.  
"O-okay..."  
"We've all got loved ones," Kendall said "And our loved ones would rather we were alive than dead. On balance."

"I agree," Logan said.  
"Do you?" Camille asked.  
"Yes Camille, even if you don't believe it your parents want you to live, I think that should be perfectly clear by now," Logan told her.  
"How come we didn't think of this before?" said Kendall "On New Year's Eve? I never thought of my parents once."  
"Because things were worse then, I suppose," I said "Family's like, I don't know...Gravity. Stronger at some times than others."  
"I have a question," Logan said and we all turned to him "If some guy came up here tonight to jump, what would you do?"  
"Easy, I'd tackle him," Camille said grinning "It worked with me."  
"Haha, funny...You're not tackling anyone," Logan said seriously. Camille stuck her tongue out to him "No but seriously, what would you tell him?"  
"I'd tell him about the ninety days," Kendall said "It's kinda true isn't it?"

"Yeah...It's true that none of us feel like killing ourselves tonight but like...if he asked us why, if he said to us, 'So tell me what great things have happened to you since you decided not to go over the edge'...what would you tell him?"

"I'd tell him about my new job...And about you," I said my eyes finding Kendall's "Actually, about all of you," I said with a small shrug. Kendall smiled.  
"Still though...Okay, our love lives are improved but, I don't know...would that be enough for someone not to want to kill himself?" Logan insisted.  
"We don't have to think about it right now, do we?" Kendall asked.  
"No, you're right...I'm sorry I was just wondering you know..."  
In the distance we could see the lights on that big wheel down by the river, the London Eye.  
"So how about we give it another six months?" I said although I knew that we didn't need six months, we were all doing okay "See how we're doing?" the others didn't say anything but Kendall pulled me closer to him, kissing my forehead.  
"Is that thing actually going round?" Camille asked narrowing her eyes at the wheel "I can't tell."  
We stared at it for a long time, trying to work it out. Camille was right. It didn't look as though it was moving, but it must have been. I suppose.

**A/N: So that was it! That's the ending of A Long Way Down, and I want to say THANK YOU, really, very very much to everyone that read my story whether or not you reviewed it. It's my first finished fiction and I feel quite proud about it, actually I'll miss writing it. I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it. **


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